


we're invincible, remember?

by Possiblyenjoyable



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abuse, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Recreational Drug Use, and it's only one experience really not multiple, explicit rating for smut in later chapters, listen i'm such a slut for high school aus, not until later chapters tho and don't worry things end up alright, only a couple of times tho and it's just pot, will continue to tag as i update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 80,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Possiblyenjoyable/pseuds/Possiblyenjoyable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time moves slowly for Tony. He's tried everything he could possibly think of to make time move faster, but God, it's impossible. He remembers when he used to think time moved too quickly, back when he and Bruce were online best buddies and before Bruce's Skype icon disappeared from his computer when he was twelve. Now, he just wants everything to be over and done with.</p><p>Until he sees a familiar face the start of his senior year of high school.</p><p>Or, the one where Tony and Bruce were childhood best friends before Bruce disappeared for six years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hi. holy shit. holy SHIT. alright, so this fic is completely written out and finished so don't fret, i'm not going to suddenly stop updating two chapters in like i do with almost every single thing i write. this fic is longer than the first goddamn harry potter book so i felt that i should probably share that with someone, even if they're strangers and i receive no money for it.
> 
> anyway, this fic has had my blood, sweat, tears, and other various bodily fluids poured into it so i really hope you guys like it. the first chapter is short as hell and that's only because it's kind of a prologue? the length of the chapters WILL get longer i promise just be patient!!

A tap of his finger and Tony hears the calming sound of the Skype call tune, Bruce’s name on the screen. He leans back in his chair with his legs crossed and waits patiently for the other boy to answer. When he does, Tony leans forward again with a beaming smile plastered to his face. “Hey, Bruce!” He taps his desktop excitedly, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of physical damage. He usually has a black eye or a bruised jaw. The kids at school pick on him for being smarter than everyone else, he’d told Tony. Tony had believed him without a second thought. This time, however, Bruce’s face appears to be free of any injuries. In fact, it’s Tony with the injury. A broken arm. “How come you haven’t been answering my calls?”

Bruce scratches the back of his neck, smiling almost nervously. “I, uh, got grounded for a week. Dad found me trying to sneak my Game Boy to school, so… no computer or Game Boy for a week.”   
Tony gives Bruce a sympathetic look. “Man, that sucks. But at least it was only a week, right? You got your Game Boy back and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Bruce nods. “I’m glad about that. There’s almost nothing to do around here.”

“I don’t like Ohio,” Tony says. “It’s too flat. I don’t know how you can live there.”

“I want to move to New York,” Bruce says with a smile. Tony grins. “It seems a lot more fun. And I’d get to see you! Well, depending on what part we’d move to. Hopefully it would be close.” Bruce laughs softly. “But we’re not moving there.”

Tony shrugs. “Maybe someday!” He sets his chin on his hand. “So you got your Game Boy back, the computer, and you don’t look all beat up! Sounds like a good day for you.”

“I guess so,” Bruce says. “I can’t say the same for you, though. What happened to your arm?”

“I broke it trying to climb the rock wall at school,” Tony says. “I got higher than anyone else and then I fell. I was so close to the top, Bruce! I gotta get there. I’m gonna try again tomorrow.”

Bruce casts Tony an apprehensive look. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to climb it again with a broken arm.”

“So what if I broke my arm? I’m still doing it.” Tony grins and Bruce sighs, rolling his eyes. There’s the tiniest hint of an amused smile on his face, though, so Tony knows he’s in the clear.

“I hope one of the teachers takes you down before you can try,” Bruce says. “I really don’t want you to die.”

“Pfft,” Tony snorts, “I’m not gonna die. Maybe break a few bones, but definitely not gonna die. I’m invincible, and so are you.”

Tony sees Bruce’s face fall at that and he wonders what he said wrong. “I sure hope you’re right about that.”

The solemn tone to Bruce’s voice makes Tony uncomfortable, so he quickly attempts to change the subject. “Hey, how long’s it been since we played SciFiPlague together?”

Bruce brightens at the change of topic. “At least a month,” he says. “Why? Do you wanna play again?”

“Heck yeah I do,” Tony nods. “Remember when we met on there? I thought you were such a dick.”

“Tony!” Bruce hisses. “Don’t say that, my dad might hear!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony chuckles. “But you were. You kept trying to mug me!”

“Yeah, and you chased me down to try and get your stuff back,” Bruce laughs. “I thought you were crazy.” The endeared smile on his face makes Tony smile even wider. Bruce can always make him smile no matter what.

“I almost killed you,” Tony recalls. “And look how far we’ve come! We’re best friends now. Sure, we’re hundreds of miles away from each other, but we’re best friends.”

“We sure are,” Bruce says, nodding. “Do you have it pulled up yet?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Let’s make sure not to die, okay?”

“Hey, we got nothing to worry about, remember?” Bruce grins. “We’re invincible."


	2. salty pepper and the new kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony gets detention and the new kid is disturbingly familiar.

Time moves slowly for Tony. He's tried everything he could possibly think of to make time move faster, but God, it's impossible. He's eighteen fucking years old and he's ready to be done with it. He shouldn't be eighteen and still in high school. He knows this. But skipping grades had never seemed appealing to him and when he'd been asked if he wanted to skip a few grades, Tony had wanted time to move slowly. He'd wanted everything to take as long as it could to get to where it needed to be because he didn't have a care in the world.   
  
Ever since he and Bruce lost contact when they were twelve, time seemed to have come to complete stand-still. He hated it. He absolutely loathed it and he still does. Sure, he likes his girlfriend Pepper a whole lot, more than any other person he's ever dated or slept with, but he's tired of time moving too slow for him and too fast for everyone else. He wants to be on their levels.   
  
"Tony, babe, you okay?" Pepper gently shakes Tony's shoulder, shaking him out of his daze. She casts him a look of concern.  
  
Tony blinks a few times to clear his mind of muddled thoughts and smiles a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes at her. "Yeah, Peps, I'm fine. Just thinking."  
  
"When are you not thinking?" Pepper chuckles.   
  
Glancing down at her paper, Tony raises an eyebrow and taps the empty notebook page. "Well, I'd venture to suggest that you were thinking, too. Doesn't surprise me. You're mind's too beautiful to sit still. Wanna tell me why you weren't taking down notes?"   
  
Pepper sighs, thumbing the tip of her pen. Tony carefully reaches over and take it out of her hand before she can manage to make any more pen marks on the pad of her thumb. He pokes her arm with the cap end. "Come on, tell me what's goin' on up there. It's gotta be good for you to act like this."   
  
Pepper offers a small smile, rolling her eyes. "I don't know, really," she says. "I just... There's a new boy in another one of our classes, and—"  
  
"Don't tell me you have a crush on him," Tony interrupts. "Because if that's the case, you do realize that I'm going to have to have a nice little chat with him, right?"  
  
"Tony, stop it!" Pepper gently elbows his own elbow. "I don't have a crush on him. The opposite, actually. He's... I dunno, he's so quiet and withdrawn and sometimes I see him making this face at other students, like— Like he's angry at them, Tony. Even when they're not doing anything to him. And I have gym class with him, too. He never takes off his sweatshirts or hoodies. He just kinda closes himself off. It kinda creeps me out."  
  
Tony purses his lips, staring at Pepper. "So you're telling me that you've been sitting here thinking about how much this kid creeps you out." He taps Pepper's pen against his lips, raising an eyebrow in question yet again.   
  
Pepper blinks. "No, no— Well, okay, I mean, sort of. But mainly just how he must be treated at home to make him so withdrawn, y'know?"  
"Ahh, there's the Pepper I know!" Tony smiles. "You may not like him, but you're worried about him." With a satisfied sigh, Tony leans back and puts his hands behind his head. "Also, how come I haven’t noticed anyone new in any either of our classes together?"  
“He _just_ moved here recently, I guess. Yesterday was his first day here and you were absent.”

Tony nods. “Oh, okay. Well, anyway, at least I don’t have to worry about any competition.” 

Pepper snorts. "You? Having competition? Never. It's not like there are any nicer boys at this school." The sarcasm dripping from her voice makes Tony quirk an amused smile.  
"Do I sense a hint of sarcasm, my dear?" He leans over to tuck a lock of hair behind Pepper's ear, watching as she ducks her head with a smile of her own.   
  
“You could stand to be a little nicer to certain people.” Pepper glances over at a blonde boy, and Tony groans.

“Oh, my  _ God _ , Peps,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously? Steve ‘I’m shitting American Pride out my ass’ Rogers? How can I be nice to him when he’s constantly up on his high fucking horse and won’t come down?”

“Sounds a little like someone else I know,” Pepper says. She stares pointedly at Tony and he feels his look of aggravation melt into one of modest guilt.

“I’m not conceited,” he protests haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Never said you were,” Pepper says with a shrug. “All I’m saying is that you two have something in common; pigheadedness. You both have to be right all the time and you know that can’t happen, Tony. Yes, you’re smarter than him when it comes to this stuff.” She gestures to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. “But he seems to be a little bit smarter than you when it comes to moral decisions.” 

Tony’s sure that if he keeps rolling his eyes they’re going to roll right out of his head. “So what? I still have decent morals.”

“Tony, last week you said that you would be grateful if your father drank himself into a coma.”

Tony flinches. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“A person with better morals wouldn’t have said it in the first place,” Pepper says, and Tony knows she’s right. But he won’t admit it.

“Well, just because he might have better morals than me doesn’t mean I have to be nice to him,” Tony says. “I’ll start being my usual chipper self around him when he decides to stop acting like he’s got an entire flag pole shoved up his ass.” 

“Great,” Pepper sighs. “Now that I’ve got all that out of my system, do you want to help me with these equations? I’m starting to think I made a mistake taking Honors Algebra.”

Tony chuckles. “No, you didn’t,” he scoots over to look at Pepper’s algebra book. “You’re  _ too  _ smart for this class, if anything. You just need to focus more.” 

Pepper traces a finger on Tony’s wrist and he melts just a little. “Stop flattering me and help me figure this out.” 

Tony looks at Pepper and he wonders how the smartest girl in school fell for a dunce like him.

-

Two classes later and Tony is walking into AP Physics about five minutes late, having been to the bathroom to procrastinate going to class and to attempt to think of some kind of excuse to get him out of school early today. He opens the door to the classroom and watches as all pairs of eyes turn toward him. 

All except one.

Ah, that must be the new boy Pepper was talking about. He’s sat rather close to the door so even under his mop of curly brown hair and his glasses, Tony can still see his eyes glued to the notebook in front of him. Tony briefly wonders why something about him strikes him as familiar, when the teacher speaks.

“Tony Stark,” she says as she makes her way over to her desk, presumably to mark him down as tardy. Tony sees the new boy’s eyes widen just the slightest bit and flicker over to him, his head barely turning. Yeah, there’s something scarily familiar about this boy. When he sees that Tony is making eye contact with him, the boy immediately reverts his eyes back to his notebook. Tony decides he’ll approach him later. “That’s one too many tardies, Tony. Detention after school tomorrow in Mr. Coraci’s room. Don’t be late.”

Tony groans, taking the slip of paper from her and dragging his feet over to the seat next to Pepper. He sits down with a huff. “Hey, sweet cheeks,” he whispers.

“Nice job,” Pepper whispers back. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have plans tomorrow or else I would’ve killed you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Tony chuckles. He glances back at the new kid again. “So, is that him? The one you said creeped you out?”

Pepper nods. 

“Do you know his name?”

“No, I can’t remember what she called him during attendance. I think it started with a B?”

“Mr. Stark, Miss Potts, I feel that I’ve been very generous allowing you two to sit next to each other,” their teacher says, and Tony looks at her with an expression of mock interest. “Please don’t make me regret that.”

“We would never!” Tony says exaggeratedly. “Pepper, please, stop making me look bad in front of the new kid.”

The class collectively giggles and Tony feels eyes on his back. When he glances back, the boy has already looked back down at his paper with a red face. Tony feels a pang of guilt. 

Pepper shoves a hand over Tony’s mouth and smiles in embarrassment at the teacher. “We’re sorry, Miss Anne. We’ll be quiet.  _ Both _ of us.” She glares pointedly at Tony and Tony puts his hands up in surrender.

“Thank you, Pepper,” Miss Anne says. “Now, Mr. Banner, can you tell me what equation we would use to solve problem number twelve?” 

_ Banner? Is that- _

“Um, E equals F over Q, Miss Anne.”

Oh, it  _ is _ the new kid. Huh. He’s got such a soft voice. Soft voice, soft face, soft hair (or at least as far as Tony can see), soft everything. Tony wonders why that is.

(Conditioner.)

Pepper wasn’t kidding about the guy being withdrawn. Tony shrugs. 

“Well, his last name starts with B,” Tony snickers. Pepper elbows him.

“If you wanna get in trouble again, keep talking,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Tony sits back with a sigh and stares up at the teacher, her voice droning on and on about how to figure out what the strength of an electric field is, his hands restlessly picking at the lint on his pants.

It’s not that Tony doesn’t like listening to the teachers in this school talk about things he already knows, it’s just that… Actually, scratch that. That’s  _ exactly _ what it is. He wishes he could mute them but, unfortunately, the only way of doing that would be to somehow burst his eardrums. He decides he won’t do that because he’d  miss the sound of Pepper’s voice. Even if she’s scolding him ninety-nine percent of the time.

He finds that  _ not _ looking back at the new kid is quite the task for him and his intense curiosity. He might just be looking for some kind of distraction from the idiocy that’s taking place at the front of the classroom. Or he could be genuinely wondering what this boy’s deal is and why he seems so goddamn familiar. Either way, Tony wishes that he had a seat angled more towards Banner so he could see him without having to obnoxiously whip his head around. Maybe he’s just seen him around town a couple times? Then again, Banner doesn’t seem like the type to go out in public that much.

Forty minutes later and Tony is nearly jumping for joy at the sound of the bell. AP Physics being the last class of the day makes that hour drag on  _ forever _ . Not the subject matter, just the teacher. She talks so slowly Tony’s convinced her diet consists of molasses and only molasses.

Tony takes this opportunity to look over at Banner, but it seems that he’s just as eager to get out of here as Tony is because he’s shoving everything into his backpack as fast as humanly possible and booking it out of the room at mach speed. Tony doesn’t even have a chance to try and make eye contact with him again. Something about the first and only time they made eye contact at the beginning of class made Banner short circuit and Tony wants to figure out why. It seems he’ll have to wait for another opportunity.

“I know I said this before, but  _ great _ job getting yourself a detention,” Pepper’s voice derails his train of thought and he smirks, gently throwing an arm over her shoulders once she’s got her backpack on. “You could have made it to class on time, right? Let me guess. You were trying to think of ways to get out of here early.”

“See, this is why you’re in all the smart classes,” Tony says. “You know me so well, Pepps.”

“No, you’re just a see-through moron,” Pepper says.

Tony runs a hand through his hair and grins. “I now have a new aesthetic. Goodbye Snarky Bad Boy Genius aesthetic, hello See-Through Moron aesthetic.”

“You can’t take anything seriously, can you?” Pepper shakes her head, laughing. 

“Was I supposed to take that seriously?” Tony quirks an eyebrow in question. “Because I thought it was friendly banter. I’m pretty sure that’s what it was.”

“You think that almost any exchange between you and someone you like is friendly banter, Tony,” Pepper says. “Hopefully you don’t engage in any of that with Mr. Coraci tomorrow.”

“Hey, he likes me!”

“He  _ tolerates _ you, babe,” Pepper gives Tony a pitiful look. “There’s a difference. And if you don’t want any more detentions any time soon, you’ll do what he says.”

Tony sighs in resignation, once again knowing that Pepper is right. He hates that she’s always right. Occasionally, Tony will find that he’s  _ amazingly _ correct about something and he won’t stop thinking about it for at least a week afterward. That’s how often Pepper is right and Tony is so painfully, painfully wrong.

One day, he thinks. One day he will once again be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for updating this so late! my bad lmao. i honestly just fuckin forgot. but thank u to all who left kudos on the first one and who all commented it really means a lot!! next chapter will be up within the next week or so!


	3. capitalism and motel rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's a moron and is apparently horrible with faces for a genius.

Detention passes slowly, as Tony expects. No phones, no music— just books and other ancient devices. 

(He didn’t listen to Pepper’s advice and had walked into the room, gone up to Mr. Coraci and said “Don’t you think it’s a little  _ late _ to be giving me detention now? I mean, I’ve already been over the maximum amount of tardies for a long time.” He’d waited for a reaction. “Come on, y’know.  _ Late _ . Get it? Because I was late and that’s how I got the detention in the first place? You don’t have to be a genius like me to get that one.” 

Mr. Coraci had rolled his eyes so hard Tony was sure he only saw the whites for a moment.)

He spends the time in detention thinking. In all the time that he’s known Banner (approximately twenty-four hours at this point), he still hasn’t learned his name and he still hasn’t had a chance to talk to him. He tried once again today to stop him after class, but just like the day before, Banner had gotten up and rushed out the door as fast as he could, not even sparing Tony a glance. Pepper had asked him why he was so determined to talk to Banner and Tony had ranted about how he’d looked at him when he heard his name and how Tony couldn’t stop thinking about how familiar he seems  _ and  _ how goddamn strange it is that Tony would think someone like Banner looks familiar because Banner doesn’t seem like the type of person Tony would ever really be friends with! Tony likes outgoing people. He likes people who can deal with his high levels of snark and, even better, can be snarky right back at him. He likes people who are the complete opposite of what Banner comes across as. Shy and quiet and withdrawn aren’t the kind of characteristics Tony looks for in potential friends. 

So  _ why _ does it feel like Tony  _ knows _ something about this boy?

Tony shakes his head in frustration, still wracking his brain for any memories of him. He can’t pin his face anywhere. He’s seen it, he knows he has. But where? 

Well, at the moment, it’s right outside the room, walking with its eyes pointed at the floor. Tony sits up like a dog that’s just seen a squirrel. 

“Hey, Mr. Coraci?” Tony raises his hand and Mr. Coraci looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Can I go to the bathroom? Oh, sorry, I forgot you teachers are all weird about that.  _ May _ I go to the bathroom? Forgot to go before I came.”

“Yes, but if you’re gone longer than five minutes or you try to make a run for it, you’ll be back in here next week, Mr. Stark,” Mr. Coraci says. Tony retrieves the detention hall pass (which is just a ruler with the word “DETENTION” written on it in large black letters) and quickly hauls ass in the direction Banner went. He can see him, almost at the end of the hallway. Tony hopes he’s not headed for the stairs and— oh, shit, he is. Tony’s about to reevaluate the situation and decide  _ not _ to chase Banner down because he definitely won’t be able to make it downstairs, have a decent conversation with Banner, and make it back up the stairs and into the classroom before five minutes is over.

But then, Banner isn’t going down the stairs. No, he’s standing by the window  _ next  _ to the stairs. He seems to simply be looking out it, contemplating something or other. Tony breathes out a sigh of relief and makes his way over to him. 

When his footsteps are close enough for Banner to recognize someone is coming up behind him, Tony sees his shoulders tense up and he turns his head just a bit. Tony approaches him calmly and gives a small wave. 

“Heya, Banner, is it?” He grins, sauntering up next to him and leaning on the window’s ledge. “Is—” He stops himself from asking “ _ Is there a first name that goes with that?”  _

Why? Because suddenly, Tony’s decided that he likes a bit of a challenge. Of course, he’s always been that way, but this is just a silly thing to challenge. He wants to attempt to remember the boy’s first name without asking. If Banner tells him it, fine. But Tony won’t outright ask because he’s so intensely bored all the time anyway, it’ll just give him something to do. Maybe make the time go by faster. 

Instead of asking him his name, Tony glances down and notices a small bruise near his ever so slightly exposed collarbone. “You okay, buddy?” He points at the bruise and Banner immediately pulls his hoodie closer around his neck. Tony looks back up at him, their eyes meeting. Banner has an unreadable expression on his face, except for maybe the nervousness etched into every muscle of it. Tony shrugs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. But uh, you’re new here, right? Welcome to Harvey Milk, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Tony Stark.” He holds out a hand for him to shake, and the boy hesitantly takes it. Despite being shy and quiet, the kid has a strong grip.

“I know who you are,” Banner says. 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

Banner gives a light laugh. “Well, yeah. You’re Tony Stark. Who doesn’t know who you are?” He smiles and Tony once again feels that pang of familiarity deep in his chest. But if Banner doesn’t know him in any other way besides “Oh you’re Tony Stark everyone and their mother knows who you are!” then how could Tony possibly feel so— so  _ connected _ to him? 

Nevertheless, Tony laughs in return. “Oh, yeah, duh. Sorry. That pretty face of yours made me forget who I was.” 

Shit shit shit he’s blushing again and even though he still has the small hint of a smile on his face, Tony can tell that he doesn’t like being so blatantly called out and flirted with. “Fuck, Banner, sorry. I gotta learn to, y’know, tone down the obnoxious flirting tendencies. And sorry about yesterday, too. I just thought that maybe you wouldn’t mind and-”

“It’s okay,” Banner interrupts him and Tony’s grateful because he doesn’t usually apologize for stuff like that. “It’s embarrassing, yeah, but… I dunno, it’s kinda nice. Everyone always walks on eggshells around me so it’s, uh… refreshing, I guess.” He gives a little shrug and Tony beams.

“Well, Banner, you’re in for quite a ride,” Tony says. Banner looks at him, his face still a little red.

“Hey, um, don’t you have like, less than a minute to get back to detention?” Banner asks and Tony’s smile falls. “Sorry, I’ve been in detention before and I know how it is-”

But Tony’s already taking off down the hallway. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” He waves. He doesn’t hear a response from Banner, but that’s alright. He didn’t really expect one.

He makes it back to the classroom with about ten seconds to spare. Without saying anything to the teacher, Tony hands him back the pass and returns to his seat.

During his five minute conversation with Banner, Tony realized three things. One; Banner is really pretty. It doesn’t surprise him that he thinks this. He’s always been attracted to men and women. Being a raging bisexual is nothing new.

Two; someone’s hurting him. Whether it be himself or other students or a family member, they’re hurting him and that makes Tony feel sick to his stomach. He may not like a lot of people, but no one deserves abuse. 

And three; Tony doesn’t want to go home. It’s a Friday and honestly, watching Bruce stare out the window made Tony want to leave this place. Leave this city for however long and just exist somewhere else. He decides that he’s going to go home, grab a bottle of vodka, some toiletries and a couple pairs of boxers and pants, and get the fuck out. He’ll find a motel outside of the city, in one of the more rural areas, bed in for the night and get fucked up watching cooking shows. He’s a genius, but goddamn does he not know how to cook. It’s nice to watch something he can actually learn from. 

So that’s it. He’s leaving tonight for at  _ least _ one night. His mom’s out of town on a business meeting and his dad doesn’t give a shit about Tony’s whereabouts, so he doesn’t have to tell anyone about where he’s going. 

Oh, man. This’ll be fun.

 

“What do you mean you’re going on a roadtrip? Are you kidding me?” Pepper’s voice is harsh through the receiver. “Why not take me?”

“Because I just need some time to myself, okay? Pepps, I love you, but I just need to do this.” Tony shoves the phone between his ear and shoulder as he throws some clothes and a bottle of vodka into a small suitcase. 

“Can you tell me  _ why? _ ” 

Tony sighs. “Pepper, I don’t really know. I just feel trapped. And I know this all seems idiotic and trust me, I look forward to getting an earful from you when I get back, but I haven’t left this place in forever.”

“Babe, you’re Tony Stark,” Pepper says. “Why  _ would  _ you want to leave this?”

Tony sets his jaw, taking the phone in his hand. “That. That’s exactly fucking why, Pepper.”

He hangs up before she can respond.

 

It’s six-thirty in the evening and Tony’s not even five minutes out of the city when he comes across a hitch hiker.

The guy’s got his hood up, and Tony should keep driving because why risk his life just to potentially help out some random guy?

That’s what Tony would think if he wasn’t impulsive and rash. But of course, he is both of those things so he pulls to the side of the road near where the individual is standing. He rolls down his passenger side window, yells “Hey, bud, you can come on in,” and then the door is being opened a moment later. With the guy’s hood up and head down, Tony can’t really see his face but he’s pretty sure he knows who it is. 

“Do you need me to pay you?” Comes the soft voice. Yeah, that’s definitely Banner.

Tony laughs. “God, no. I’ve got enough money lying around. Just get in and tell me where you’re headed, stranger.” He’ll wait for Banner to recognize him.

Banner hops in, closing the door after him and setting his backpack on his lap. He doesn’t seem to have much. “You can just drop me off at the nearest motel, I guess. Just so I’m out of the city.” 

Tony nods. “Alright, can do. I’m headed to a motel myself, actually.”

“Yeah?” Banner says. “Well, if you’re going farther than the nearest motel, take me close to wherever you’re going. The farther away from here the better.”

“Well, Banner,” Tony says with a grin, thinking back to earlier today, “you’re in for quite a ride.”

_ That _ makes Banner turn his head, eyes wide. “Tony? Ah, fuck!” He slams his fists onto his thighs and Tony raises an eyebrow. “God, I wouldn’t have gotten in if I knew it was you.”

“First of all, that’s why you  _ look  _ at the person you’re going to be hitchhiking with,” Tony says. “And second of all, what the fuck? If  _ I’d _ known you’d be so against driving with me to God knows where, I wouldn’t have picked you up!” He can’t help but be offended by Banner’s obvious displeasure at being in the same car as him.

Banner just crosses his arms. “Well, you can drop me off if you want to.”

Tony’s about to take him up on that offer since he’s being such a pain, but what he notices around them stops him. “And let someone else pick you up? Yeah, good luck with that. This road’s fucking barren.”

Banner looks through the windshield at the road ahead, noticing the obvious lack of cars. Tony watches him then look through the rearview mirror and, yet again, he sees no cars in sight.

“Damn it,” Banner says under his breath. Tony laughs and reaches over to pat his shoulder. He doesn’t see Banner wince at the contact. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me if you wanna get to where you’re going,” Tony says, a bright and taunting smile on his face.

Banner groans comically loud. “Nope, I’m tucking and rolling,” he says. “Can you slow the car down just a little so when I do, I don’t die?”

“Nah,” Tony says with a shake of his head. “Not happening.”

“This is abduction,” Banner says, pointing at Tony. “I don’t want to be in here with you. How do I know you’re not just going to keep me with you the entire time?”  
Tony rolls his eyes, the grin still glued to his face. “I’m not going to kidnap you, Banner! I’m just making sure no other creeps can get to you for now. After I drop you off at your motel, you’re on your own. Which, by the way, what the _fuck_ are you doing out here anyway?”

Tony can tell that Banner’s about to make a snappy comeback, but just before the words can leave his mouth, he sits back and lets out a defeated sigh. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Tony says. “But I still wanna know. Because if you’re running from the law, I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn around and give you to the police. Don’t worry, my dad’s good friends with the chief so I can probably convince them to go easy on you.”

“I’m not running from the police,” Banner snaps. Tony’s smile falters at his tone of voice. “I’m running from… something else.” He avoids Tony’s side-gaze, looking out the window.

“Okay, Mr. Cryptic,” Tony says, shrugging. “As long as you’re not in legal trouble, I’ll take you wherever you wanna go. Unless you’re a minor. Are you a minor?”

“I’m eighteen, calm down,” Banner says. “Do you have any music in here?” He looks at the radio, keeping his arms crossed, almost as if he’s afraid to touch it.

“Hey, it’s a nice car, but you can turn on the radio if you want,” Tony pushes the power button, then gestures to the other controls. “You won’t break it. Turn on whatever you want.”

Banner hesitates for a moment. He seems to consider whether or not he wants to risk playing with Tony’s ever-so-nice radio or just leaving it be. Eventually, he reaches forward and plays with the dial until he lands on something he deems appropriate. Tony cringes.

“Classical? Seriously?” 

“It helps me calm down,” Banner says. “I’ve had a long week.”

“Yeah, I still want to know why you’re trying to get out of this city when you literally just got in,” Tony says, snorting. “I’ve been here all my life and I’m just now trying to leave. But like, only for a couple days. What about you?”

“For as long as I can,” Banner says. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for me to go back after being gone for more than a day. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, shit,” Tony winces. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Banner nods, “but I’m not gonna deal with it.”

And they leave it at that. Tony manages to somehow restrain his urge to change the channel because  _ God _ does he ever hate classical music. But Banner’s fallen asleep in the passenger seat against the seat belt. That can’t be comfy. Tony reaches for the recline button below the radio when he notices another black and blue mark on Bruce’s tilted neck. Definitely not a hickey— it’s too big to be one of those. It’s almost in the same place as the one on the other side, right between his shoulder and neck. This one’s up a little bit higher, though. Probably why he had his hood up. He’d taken it down about a half hour into the trip.

Tony shakes his head, reminding himself to focus on the road and to maybe bring up the bruises later. Maybe. He pushes the recline button and Banner’s seat slowly leans back, waking the boy from his slumber.

He blinks sleepily a few times, his mind attempting to catch up to what’s happening. He looks at Tony, then at the seat, then mumbles a “Thank you,” before leaning back and curling up under the seat belt. Tony feels a pang of anxiety from wondering why the hell this kid seems so tired and sad and hurt all the damn time. It can’t be a good answer, he thinks. Maybe he’s getting beat up at school for being so smart? Tony knows the kids at his school can be assholes, but then again,  _ he’s _ never gotten beaten up for being a genius. But maybe that’s because he’s Tony Stark. And Banner is, well… Banner. Whatever that means. Quiet and reserved and, in Pepper’s words,  _ creepy. _ Tony doesn’t think that. He doesn’t think Banner’s creepy in the slightest bit. In fact, Banner sort of reminds him of a character that would be in a book about a tortured teenage soul, all angsty and predictable. Now that it’s happening in front of him, though, Tony doesn’t think it’s predictable at all. He would have never guessed that he’d end up picking the kid up off the side of the road, or that he’d have injuries suggesting some kind of abuse on him, or that he’d listen to classical music. Tony keeps ending up being surprised.

It’s an hour and a half later when the sun is a bit lower in the sky that Tony decides he needs a pee break. They’ve been on the highway for a while now, still not sure where they’re going or what they’re doing. Banner has been sleeping the entire time and Tony’s glad that he drank an energy drink before setting out. 

He sees a rest stop up ahead and merges into the far right lane, slowing down and taking the exit leading to it. There’s two other cars there, and one of them is already backing out and leaving. Tony pulls into a parking space, turns the ignition off, and leans over to gently shake Banner’s shoulder. 

Banner stirs, opening his eyes a crack and looking up at Tony with irritated curiosity. “What?”

“You gotta take a piss?” Tony asks. “We’re at one of those rest stops. You know, the in between places where reality is altered and nothing feels exactly right?” 

Banner (Tony can’t wait to figure out what his first name is so he can stop referring to him as “Banner”) allows himself an amused smile, pushing himself into a sitting position and shaking out his hair. “Sure, I’ll come in.”

“We can grab a snack, too,” Tony says as he gets out of the car, waiting for Banner to get out as well so he can lock it. 

Banner shakes his head. “I only have enough money for a one night stay at a motel and— Well, I don’t really want to take your money.”

Tony throws an arm around the other’s shoulders. “Banner, you’re forgetting that I’m the son of a billionaire. A three dollar bag of chips and a couple water bottles is nothing to me. Don’t sweat it.”

Banner looks like he’s about to protest again, but before he can, Tony holds up a finger. “Ah, ah! What did I say? Don’t. Sweat it.”

A sigh of resignation from the other boy and Tony smiles in content. 

The rest stop is scarily empty save for one other man at the vending machine. Tony decides that he  _ really _ doesn’t like rest stops and that he wants to pee, get their food, and get out as soon as possible. 

He finishes before Banner does and immediately goes to the gumball machine to pop in a quarter, hoping to get a red one. He frowns when the knob won’t turn. He twists it as hard as he can and—  _ POP! _ It turns, but no gumball comes out. Banner walks out of the bathroom to see Tony hitting the machine. 

“What did you do?” Tony hears him ask.

“I broke the damn gumball machine,” he says. “Second one this week! They keep stealing my quarters. Down with capitalism!”

“Um, you do realize that capitalism is what makes you a billionaire, right?” Banner quirks an eyebrow, his mouth twitching upward into a smile of amusement. Why is that all of Tony’s antics just seem to amuse him?

“Of course,” Tony nods. “And as someone who benefits from capitalism, I’m grateful for it. But I know that others are not so fortunate so all I’m saying is that we should definitely embrace full communism.” He gives the gumball machine one final kick and decides that it’s suffered enough under his hands before sauntering over to the vending machine. 

Tony gets himself a bag of Fritos and Banner a Poptart, and both of them water bottles before making their way back to the car. As soon as Tony opens the driver’s side door, his phone dings and vibrates in his pocket. He sits down before pulling it out, noticing a text from Pepper. He doesn’t bother to read it.

“Girlfriend?” Banner asks. Tony looks at him and blinks.

“Yeah,” he replies. “We had a little fight before I left. She thought I was acting weird for wanting to leave the city for a couple days.”

“Well, I mean, you  _ are _ Tony Stark—”

“Don’t say that!” Tony snaps, throwing his hands up in frustration. “God, I get it, I’m Tony Stark! I’m a fucking billionaire! I’m super privileged in every possible way, I know. I fucking know that. I’m white, I’m male, I’m rich as fuck. So I guess that means I can’t feel trapped or sad or angry and I have to be happy all! The fucking! Time! Why would I want to leave when I have everything I could ever possibly want, right?” He glares at Banner, waiting for some kind of snappy response.

Instead, he receives a look of sympathy. “Um, that’s not what I was going to say,” Banner says, voice soft. “What I  _ was _ going to say, is that… well, you’re Tony Stark—”

“Yes, I know, we  _ just _ went over this.”

“No, stop interrupting me,” Banner scolds him. “You. Are. Tony Stark. Yes, you’re privileged. But I can imagine that it gets tiring feeling like you have so much responsibility on your shoulders, right? I mean, you’re going to inherit Stark Industries someday. Whether you want to or not, that’s a big deal and a whole lot of stress to handle. And I bet you don’t see your parents a lot, either.” Banner looks down.

Tony stares at him, instantly feeling sorry for blowing up on him earlier. Banner’s smarter than he gives him credit for, apparently. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, sorry. You’re right.” He chuckles. “You got me down pretty good, Banner, I’ll say that much. But I really am grateful for all my privileges, y’know? I mean, sure, I take a lot of things for granted, but doesn’t everyone? It doesn’t take a genius to know that my pain is really nothing compared to a lot of other peoples’ pain.”

Banner shrugs. “Pain isn’t a competition. Yeah, some people have it a lot worse than you, but that doesn’t make your pain any less valid.”

Tony is quiet for a long moment. He knows he’s well off, and he likes to pretend that nothing ever bothers him because why should he get to feel pain when he’s living the high life? It doesn’t seem fair to him. He feels guilty for even talking about how shitty he feels.

“Alright, well, let’s get going,” Tony finally says, turning the radio on again. “But no classical music this time.”

Banner sighs for what Tony is sure is the thousandth time that night. “Fine. What  _ are _ we listening to, then?”

“Classical  _ rock _ ,” Tony grins. Over the sound of Banner letting out a long, drawn out exaggerated groan of irritation, Tony shouts “AC/DC, Banner! Black Sabbath! The best of the best! Just let it happen!”

“I don’t  _ want _ to let it happen,” Banner whines, covering his ears. 

“Well, then, you shoulda brought some headphones. Because I’m not letting you fall back asleep.” 

Banner blinks in confusion. “Okay, but why?”

Tony points upward out the windshield. “The fuckin’ sunset, man! It’d be a shame to miss it just for a few measly hours of sleep.” 

Banner smirks and Tony sees it out of the corner of his eye.  _ Holy shit, _ he thinks.  _ He should make that face more often. _

“Who knew that someone as cynical as Tony Stark would be such a romantic?” Banner leans back against the reclined seat again, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

Tony reaches over and pulls it off. “Nuh-uh! You gotta be able to see the sky to watch the sunset, my friend,” he points again. “Don’t make me be a romantic by myself. I know we just met, but I’m gonna need you to be romantic with me for right now.”

“I’m already going on an unintentional road trip with you, how much more romantic do you want me to be?” Banner says. 

“About that,” Tony turns the music down. “Why don’t you just kick it with me tonight? I mean, I can afford a lot more than you can, probably. So why don’t you just stay with me tonight?” 

Banner freezes in his seat and Tony glances over at him, looking for any other signs of discomfort at Tony’s proposal. The other boy is looking at him in surprise, his brow furrowed. Tony just smiles.

“Seriously, it’s no big deal. I’ll even get a two bed room for the night in case you’re weird about sharing a bed with another guy.” Banner doesn’t strike him as the “no homo” type, but still. He’s worried about this kid and he doesn’t want to make him unnecessarily uncomfortable. Pepper would say that he has a soft spot for him. Tony, once again, knows that’s right but refuses to admit it. 

“Are you serious?” Banner says, voice quiet. 

“‘Course I am,” Tony says. “I know I joke around a lot, but I  _ am _ capable of being serious, you know.” 

“I-I know, but…” Banner trails off, sitting up. “I dunno, why do that for  _ me? _ Like you said, we haven’t even known each other for that long. Like, barely over twenty-four hours.” 

Tony can see Banner wringing his hands together in his lap. Anxiety, he thinks. 

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean a great friendship isn’t possible.” Tony reaches over and ruffles Banner’s hair, making him smack his hand away in annoyance.

“You won’t see me after tonight, though,” Banner says. “I’m leaving for good, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that,” Tony huffs. “Damn it. Well, we’ll make it last while we can, alright? Sound good? Of course it does, we’re doing this. Sleepover at a motel with Tony Stark. Not many people get to say they’ve done that.”

Banner shakes his head, staring at Tony incredulously before lying back again. “You really are something.”

“Don’t I know it.”

-

They drive for another couple of hours. Those two hours are filled with classic rock, Banner thanking Tony for making him stay up to watch the sunset, another rest stop trip where Tony  _ finally  _ gets his gumball, and the two boys playing Slug Bug until Tony felt as bruised as Banner probably was. Tony didn’t hit Banner hard at all, whereas Tony called him a wimp for punching like he did. Banner stepped up his game after that and Tony definitely doesn’t regret it.

They’re in the middle of what seems like nowhere. Nothing for miles except for a gas station, a shady looking diner, and an even shadier looking motel. Tony pulls into the motel’s parking lot and turns to Banner.

“Home sweet home for the next day!” Tony says, smiling brightly. “Well, at least for you. It’s my home for two days at  _ least _ .”

Banner chuckles. Tony asks him if he wants to get something to eat at the diner and he hears the kid’s stomach rumble in response. Banner seems to always wear baggy clothes, but Tony can still tell that he doesn’t eat much. 

“That answers that question,” Tony says as he steps out of the car, Banner following him. “We should check in first, though.”

Though Tony never made any reservations, checking in is still a breeze and both he and Banner receive key cards. As soon as that’s over and done with, they make their way over to the diner. 

Pepper’s name shows up on his phone screen once again while Banner is shoveling a burger into his mouth, Tony mindlessly picking at his own food. He stares at it for a moment before deciding to stop being a dick and answering it.

“Hey, P—”

_ “You asshole!”  _ Pepper says before Tony can even get her name past his lips.  _ “What the hell was that all about earlier?” _

“Listen, Pepper,” Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was a dick move on my part and I’m sorry. I was pissed off. But uh, I’m three and a half hours outside of the city, so I feel a little better.”

_ “Well, I’m so glad, Tony,”  _ Pepper says, a hint of sarcasm to her voice.  _ “Just— don’t do that again, okay? I sat here for hours wondering what the hell I did wrong.”  _

“Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll talk to you about that in person. It’s not really a big deal, though, so don’t worry.” He pauses, looking up at Banner. “But guess who’s with me?”

_ “...Who?” _

“Banner. The new kid.” Tony grins. Banner tilts his head in question at him, chewing on his food slowly. “He was, uh, hitchhiking. So we’re chilling.”

_ “Did you know it was him when you picked him up?” _

“Not at first, no.”

_ “Tony, I swear to God, you’re a bigger idiot than you are a genius.” _

“We’ve gone over this, Pepps.”

_ “I know, I know. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead. You were acting pretty weird on the phone, and I thought you were… Well, never mind. I’m just glad you’re safe.” _

“Thought I was what?” Tony furrows his brow. “Gonna off myself? Nah, babe, you know me better than that.”

_ “I know that you’ve been in the hospital for alcohol poisoning before,”  _ Pepper says flatly.

“Alright, fair point,” Tony says. “But still. I’m fine. I just felt like I was suffocating for a while.”

_ “Will you check in with me tomorrow? Just so I know you’re still doing okay?”  _

“Yeah, Pepps. No problem.”

_ “Okay. I love you.” _

“I love you too.”

Tony hangs up, setting his phone on the table and pushing his food away from him. He doesn’t have the appetite for it right now. 

Banner pokes his fork at it. “You gonna eat that?”

“Have at it,” Tony says with a chuckle, and Banner practically inhales the omelet. 

“So,” Banner asks around a mouthful of food, “what was that all about?”

“Ah, she was worried I was planning on drinking myself to death tonight,” Tony shrugs. “Which isn’t too far fetched because I’ve almost done that before, so.” At Banner’s wide eyed stare, Tony waves his hands. “It’s nothing, I promise! It’s in the past. I know how to handle my whiskey now.” He smiles tiredly at the memory of his first and only suicide attempt. Days had been spent in the hospital. His dad didn’t visit him once.

“First of all,” Banner puts down his fork, “it’s not  _ nothing _ , Tony. It’s scary stuff. I get it, I do.” Tony’s smile falls and he’s about to ask Banner to elaborate on that, but he just keeps talking. “I mean, as long as you’re past it, I guess it’s all good. But please don’t try anything like that again. I know I can’t stop you, but… please.”

Tony traces his finger along the pattern on the table, not meeting Banner’s eyes for a moment. Then, he looks up with a smile. He’s happy. He’s always happy. Everything’s okay. God, isn’t this why he left home? So he could stop pretending for five fucking minutes? He shouldn’t have picked up Banner. “Don’t worry, Banner, I’m way past all that. Nothin’ to worry about.” 

He can see that his new friend doesn’t believe him in the slightest, but he ignores that and waves the waitress down so they can get their check and leave. Banner reluctantly finishes the food in front of him and thanks Tony for paying for it. 

Back at the motel, Tony decides that he needs a long, hot shower. “If you wanna take one after me I’ll make it shorter so there’s some hot water left for you,” he says. Banner shakes his head and tells him it’s fine, he took one earlier today. 

With Banner lying on the bed (one single bed, yes) and watching TV, Tony retires to the shower and makes it a little hotter than he probably should. He sits down, wrapping his arms around his knees and taking deep breaths to clear his mind. He feels so goddamn bad for making Pepper think what she thought. Of course he wasn’t going to kill himself. Sure, he was planning on getting absolutely fucking plastered, but not life-threateningly plastered. The thought of Pepper worrying about that makes him feel sick to his stomach. He’ll have to text her later and remind her how much she means to him. 

(Being mushy like that with someone is still new to Tony. He knows he loves Pepper, but he’s not sure that he’s  _ in _ love with her. There’s always the vague thought in the back of his mind that he’s waiting for someone specific, though he’s not sure who.)

After a good forty minutes of hot water turning his skin red, Tony decides it’s best to step out before his skin starts peeling. The mirror is fogged up and the tiles are slick and it’s sort of hard to breathe, so Tony cracks the door. Once he’s towel-dried his hair enough to the point where it’s not dripping on everything he loves, he wraps the towel around his waist and exits the bathroom to find his boxers and T-shirt he wears to bed. 

“Y’know,” Banner says from his spot on the bed, “I don’t think you could have picked a shadier motel if you’d tried.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, let’s just hope we don’t get killed here. I don’t want to die in a place like this.”

“Ah, we got nothin’ to worry about, remember?” Banner says as Tony digs through his suitcase. “We’re invincible.”

Tony’s heart stutters.

He straightens out, looks at Banner.

No, he looks at— 

“Bruce?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for waiting around guys! this is.... a fairly long chapter whoops. but hey it'll give ya somethin to do. stick around for the next chapter!!


	4. loose towels and tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alcohol content warning, smoking mention, and self harm mention!

Tony doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in coincidences (and science, obviously), and this is definitely a coincidence. It  _ has _ to be a coincidence that he’s in the same goddamn motel room as his childhood best friend whom he only ever saw over a computer screen. He feels like his legs are numb and his face is all tingly and he thinks, for a moment, that none of this is real. When he was younger, he’d think about what he’d say to Bruce if he ever found him again. He’d stay up all night wondering where Bruce had gone to, why his Skype contact disappeared. He’d always felt that maybe Bruce had found better friends— friends he could be with in real life instead of online. Tony remembers crying the night he saw that Bruce’s contact no longer existed. It had been the only way Tony could talk to him.

And now, even after all that time planning out what he was going to say upon finally reuniting with him, he finds that his voice won’t work. Not even when Bruce responds in a whisper to Tony’s stutter of his name.

“Hi, Tony.” 

He doesn’t know what to do. Every word he wants to say, every sentence he wants to yell—  all caught in his throat. He feels like he’s going to throw up. 

So he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes three long steps forward, watching as Bruce -  _ his  _ Bruce! - pushes himself into a sitting position with wide eyes because he probably has no idea why Tony is practically fucking charging him. 

“Tony? What are you—” 

Bruce doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s a Tony crawling on top of him, putting his hands on either side of Bruce’s face and just  _ looking _ at him. Looking at him with the most amazed expression on his face. 

Tony feels his lips twitch upward into an awestruck smile, his eyes wide and hands shaking against Bruce’s cheeks. Words are still useless and all he can do is move to wrap his arms around Bruce’s neck, shoving his face into Bruce’s shoulder. He feels tears form in his eyes and he curses himself for getting so emotional over this when Bruce seems almost...indifferent.

“ _ Fuck,  _ Tony.”

Alright, maybe not. 

The feeling of Bruce wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist in return is enough to make Tony let out a pathetic sounding sob, his grip tightening. He grins against Bruce’s shirt. 

“Why didn’t you fucking  _ tell _ me, you dick?” Tony laughs almost hysterically into Bruce’s neck. 

“Because I wanted you to figure it out on your own,” Bruce says, voice still soft. There’s a roughness to it that suggests he’s holding back tears. “But, um, I also kind of didn’t want you to figure it out.”

Tony squeezes one more time before pushing himself up, looking Bruce in the eyes, past his tears. He can’t help but feel confused at that statement. “Wh— How come?”

“It’s… hard to explain,” Bruce grimaces. Tony finds that he’s not even paying attention to what Bruce is saying.

“Let me look at you,” Tony says hoarsely, voice cracking. He sets his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and just stares, eyes scanning his long lost best friend’s face. Freckles. So many fucking freckles and Tony wants to  _ die _ it’s so cute. Dark brown eyes, tan skin despite Bruce probably never going outside unless forced to, prominent cheekbones, and really, really nice lips that Tony just wants to lean forward and bite—

No, no he doesn’t. Where did that even come from? He’s bi, yes, that’s been established, but he usually has some amount of control over urges like that. 

Alright, maybe he doesn’t, but still! He can’t be thinking that about his best friend. If they even  _ are _ still best friends.

Despite Bruce having an amazingly attractive face, though, Tony can’t help but notice how  _ tired  _ his brown eyes look and how even his tan skin looks an unhealthy shade. He’s seen the bruises, too. That doesn’t help much. 

“You look awful,” Tony says lightheartedly, but he means it. Bruce does look awful. He’s beautiful and everything Tony ever imagined he would be like at this age, but he looks like he’s been dragged through Hell and back.

Bruce chuckles. “That’s, um, actually why I didn’t want you to recognize me. I thought you would be disappointed in how I turned out.” Tony watches as Bruce hesitantly brings a hand up to rest it over where Tony’s hand sits on his shoulder. It’s warm and Tony hopes Bruce never takes it away. “But hey, you look pretty shitty yourself.”

Tony blinks. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bruce laughs softly. “Tony, you look like you haven’t slept in years. And you’re so ridiculously pale I wouldn’t be surprised if I was talking to a ghost right now.” He grins. “We’re just one giant mess, aren’t we?”

Tony inhales deeply. “I guess we are.”

“Now, um,” Bruce looks down at Tony’s legs, “do you think you could get off of me? You’re only wearing a towel and it’s starting to loosen.”

Tony looks down, only now realizing what a compromising position he’s forced Bruce into. “I think you mean, ‘Tony, could you please stay on top of me? You’re only wearing a towel and it’s starting to loosen.’ Am I right?” A shit-eating grin crosses his face and he watches as Bruce’s face reddens just a little and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s funny,” Bruce says as Tony climbs off of him, “the last time we saw each other was when we were twelve and you weren’t nearly this gay. It’ll take some getting used to.”

“Bi, actually,” Tony says.

“My original statement stands.”

Tony laughs, disappearing around the corner to change into boxers and a T-shirt. He doesn’t bother going into the bathroom. “So,” he says, almost falling over as he attempts to slide his boxers on, “you really did end up moving to NYC. Did any part of it have to do with me?” He hopes that Bruce can hear the cockiness in his voice.

“Actually, no,” Bruce says and Tony feels more disappointed than he thought he would. “Dad’s job moved. It just so happened to move really close to you. Which, holy shit, I did  _ not _ think that Tony Stark would be going to a public school, let alone the same one I decided to go to.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna skip any grades because I didn’t want to be the only youngster in college.” Tony finishes pulling his shirt on over his head, hearing Bruce shuffling around through his backpack. When he takes a step around the corner, he immediately freezes and takes another step back.

Bruce had slipped on sweatpants, another T-shirt, and Tony now watches as he begins to pull his original hoodie back on over his bruised, scarred arms. Some scars new, some scars old. Some were definitely self-inflicted and Tony feels his chest clench. There’s a  _ hand-shaped _ bruise on his forearm and Tony wants to fucking deck whoever did that to him. No wonder Bruce is always wearing long sleeves. 

He wants to say something about it so goddamn bad, but he knows that Bruce will just close himself off. Now that he’s older, Tony highly doubts that kids in his class are dealing that level of damage to Bruce. That’s the work of an adult, most likely a parent. All those times that Bruce had a broken bone or a bruised face— it wasn’t his classmates, it was probably his  _ dad _ . How could a grown man handle his  _ ten-year-old child _ like that? 

Tony disappears around the corner again to wait for Bruce to put his hoodie back on before walking back out, Bruce shoving his day clothes into his backpack. “Anyway,” he says, throwing himself onto the bed and pulling a pillow close to his face. He looks up at Bruce, who’s still standing there, awkwardly looking down at Tony and the bed as if he doesn’t know what to do. Tony holds out his hand. “Come on, Bruce. Time for bed.” 

Bruce smiles and gently pushes Tony’s hand away before climbing into the bed next to him, lying on his stomach and facing Tony. He mimicks Tony by bunching up his own pillow and shoving his face into it, grinning. Tony finds himself wondering how someone can be so attractive. 

“I’ll have to tell Pepper that she might have to worry a little,” Tony says.

“Worry about what?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, his grin still plastered onto his freckled face.

“About the fact that I’m sharing a bed with a childhood best friend who grew up to be one attractive son of a bitch,” Tony says with a smirk. 

“Wouldn’t want to compromise our friendship now, would we?” Bruce chuckles and Tony elbows him. “What? We’re friends, aren’t we? You said we’d have to enjoy it while it lasts, or whatever.”

Tony’s smile falls a bit. “Oh. Yeah, we’re friends. We’re still best friends, Bruce. We’re the same kids who met in an online video game, just a little older and a little more broken. Right?”

Bruce nods into the pillow. “Right.” With a smile, Bruce reaches over and snatches up the remote to turn the TV off before settling back down and looking at Tony with one of the most intense expressions he’s ever seen anyone give him. “Maybe we really are invincible. I mean, you tried to drink yourself to death but you didn’t, and I’ve… well, almost accidentally died a couple times myself. But I’m still here. We’re both still here.”

“Well, we couldn’t die before finally reuniting, could we?” Tony says. “We get a second chance now. And personally, I’m pretty pumped about that.” Oh, man. Bruce’s hand is right there and Tony really wants to grab it. 

Well, he’s always been impulsive.

He’s reaching up and lacing his fingers through Bruce’s fingers without really even thinking about it, watching as Bruce’s face turns a lovely shade of pink and his bright, happy smile turns into one of confusion. 

“Hey, man,” Tony says, “I lost you once. I’m not going through that bullshit again.”

Bruce swallows. Tony feels him tighten his grip on his hand. 

“You won’t have to.”

 

The morning comes and Tony decides that he’s never wanted to maim anyone anyone as badly as he wants to maim Bruce’s dad. He’s assuming that it’s Bruce’s dad, at least. It could be someone else entirely, but all signs point to dad. Tony’s reasoning for wanting to wring the neck of Bruce’s father with his own bare hands are pretty valid, he thinks. He saw the bruises along his arms last night and he saw the old and new scars littering his wrists, but what he didn’t see was the very prominent, thick scar right at the top of his wrist. 

He sees it when he wakes up, Bruce’s wrist overturned beneath Tony’s and his sleeve pulled down just a bit. It’s whited over but it’s thick and long, and it takes every ounce of Tony’s strength not to brush his thumb over it. So  _ that’s  _ what Bruce meant when he said he’d almost died a couple times. He wishes he could go back and stop Bruce from even trying.

But wait, a  _ couple  _ times? How many times has Bruce attempted to take his own life and how many times has Tony not been there for him? Tony doesn’t think he wants to know.

Bruce stirs and Tony waits for him to open his eyes, meeting them when he does. He wants to tell Bruce “Don’t worry, go back to sleep,” but instead what comes out of his mouth is “Good morning, sunshine!” 

Bruce stares at him for a moment, eyes narrow and almost confused. He must be disoriented, Tony thinks. After all, it’s the first morning waking up after finding his childhood best friend. Six years. Six fucking years had passed. 

“Uh,” Bruce says, voice heavy with sleep, “good morning?” He offers a crooked smile.

Tony’s quiet for a moment. Then, with yet another awestruck smile, he speaks. “We’ve missed so fucking much, Bruce.”

Bruce sighs. “I know. When you said that you’d tried to drink yourself to death, it… I dunno. Ouch.” He squeezes Tony’s hand, wincing at the thought of Tony’s suicide attempt.

“Yeah, well,” Tony chuckles, “like I said, it’s in the past.”

“I sure hope so,” Bruce closes his eyes again. “So, what are we gonna do today before I leave?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, Bruce.” Tony shifts where he lay. “We’re going to do absolutely nothing. I just got you back, and all I want to do is exist with you. Sound good?”

Bruce stares at Tony with what Tony thinks is a look of confused amazement before he bursts out laughing. Not a chuckle, not a  _ soft _ laugh, but actual full blown  _ laughter. _ It’s one of the best sounds Tony’s ever heard and it feels like home.

But still, he can’t figure out why Bruce is laughing like Tony just told him the funniest joke in existence. “What’d I say that’s so funny?” 

Bruce is grinning and it’s actual sunshine spilling from his face. “Oh, my God,” he says once he’s calmed down enough to speak. “You’re just as weird as I remember you. God, I haven’t known anyone who just wanted to do nothing with me since Betty.” 

“Who’s Betty?” Tony asks.

“Oh, she was… sort of my girlfriend? For a while? She had a thing for me, I had a thing for her, but it was ninth grade. Kind of stupid. And she had to move schools because of some personal stuff, so we broke up. We still talk sometimes, though.” 

Tony nods. “I know how that is. I had a girlfriend my freshman year, too. Can’t seem to remember her name.” 

“Real classy,” Bruce says sarcastically. “You do remember your current girlfriend’s name, right? Or are there too many to count?”

Tony feigns mock offense. “How dare you! I only have, let’s see… one, two, three, four…” 

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Bruce removes his hand from Tony’s and Tony almost frowns. “I know you’re joking, but Jesus, Tony! Show some respect to Pepper.”

“I know, I know,” Tony laughs. “She’s great, really. She’s probably closer to me than anyone else. Y’know, I talk to her about you all the time.”

Bruce pushes himself up, sitting cross-legged and staring down at Tony. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, we were best friends,” Tony says, shrugging. “I’d always talk about how much I wished you would just show up and surprise me or something. She knew how much I missed you.” He pauses, feeling his face redden. “I mean, nah. I never missed you. Not once. Who are you?”

Bruce smirks. “I never would’ve guessed that you’d grow up to be emotionally constipated.”

“And  _ I  _ never would have guessed that you’d grow up to be almost as snarky as I am!” Tony sits up and pinches Bruce’s cheeks. “I’m so proud!”

Bruce shakes his head away from Tony’s grip with a bright smile. “When the world is a dick to you, you end up being a little bit cynical and bitter.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Tony snorts. “But hey, didn’t you say last night that you weren’t going anywhere? And then just a few minutes ago you said you were leaving again. Care to explain?” He looks at Bruce expectantly, lips pursed.

“Oh,” Bruce blinks. “I, uh— kind of forgot I said that. The part about me leaving. I didn’t really mean to say it, I don’t think? I don’t know. Just— don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Really,” Tony says, voice deadpan.

“Really,” Bruce says.

Tony analyzes the expression on Bruce’s face for a moment before deciding that he’s telling the truth. “Welp,” he flops back down onto the mattress, “that means you’re stuck with me for another night! Just me, you, that shitty diner, and the cooking channel.”

“Why the cooking channel?”

“Gordon Ramsay. Need I say more?”

Bruce shakes his head, smiling fondly as he climbs out of bed. “Whatever. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Think of me!” Tony sing-songs after him, watching him disappear into the bathroom. (Not before Bruce throws Tony the middle finger from around the corner, though. Tony just laughs.)

While Bruce is in the shower, Tony takes the opportunity to call Pepper and let her know what’s going on. It’s a lot of  _ Pepper you’re never going to believe this _ and  _ Oh my God he’s exactly like I remember him just sadder  _ and  _ I can’t fucking believe you called my childhood best friend creepy _ . He can’t wait to formally introduce Bruce and Pepper; maybe then Pepper will see that Bruce  _ isn’t _ creepy at all and that he’s actually just a fucking teddy bear.

The day passes by slowly, and for once Tony is grateful. It’s just him and Bruce relaxing in bed, keeping their physical distance from each other for about the first, oh, half an hour of relaxation. They end up in a variety of different positions— Bruce’s head on Tony’s stomach, or under the covers with their legs tangled together, or Bruce’s head resting on Tony’s shoulder while Tony runs his fingers through his hair. Most of the positions involve Bruce being on Tony in some form or another rather than the other way around because Tony’s afraid he’s going to hurt Bruce by laying on a bruise or a new wound somewhere on his body. He hopes that one day he’ll be able to do it.

Bruce falls asleep again at some point during the day. He wonders how one kid can sleep so much, but maybe that’s just because Tony hardly sleeps at all. Then again, this could be the first time Bruce has slept so soundly in a long time if Tony’s right about his dad. There seems to be a lot going on up in Bruce’s head, too, so he doubts he sleeps very well at home. No wonder he’s trying to get out of the city. His life sounds like a fucking nightmare.

But Tony’s just glad that he’s safe  _ now _ , right where he is in bed with him. He’s got him tucked into his side, head resting on his shoulder and an arm thrown over his torso. Tony briefly wonders if this is normal. Should he and Bruce be this comfortable with each other already? Should they be comfortable with this at  _ all? _ This is what people who are dating each other do. And Tony is most definitely not dating Bruce. He does the exact same things with Pepper— lying on each other, running their fingers through each other’s hair, stuff like that. Sure, Tony’s always been a very physically open person, but… it feels different with Bruce. He doesn’t know why, though, and he definitely doesn’t know what that different feeling is. 

He’s thankful that Bruce stirs from his sleep because it helps distract him from his thoughts. Unfortunately, all Bruce does is tighten his hold on Tony and Tony gets that weird feeling in his stomach again. Fuck. 

“Hey,” Bruce says, voice soft. “Don’t you think it’s kind of funny that like, we’re seeing each other in person now? Like, when we were first friends we never saw each other on anything other than a computer screen. Then we lost contact, and now… we’re not finding each other online again. We found each other in  _ real _ life, Tony. How cool is that? Like, the universe thought, ‘Oh, hey, I made them suffer without each other for a while. I guess they can see each other again. But I’ll throw in a little extra something to  _ really _ make up for tearing them apart.’ Heh.” 

Tony grins, ruffling Bruce’s hair. “Yeah, I was thinking about that earlier. You have a good nap? Or were you never actually sleeping?”

“I was sleeping,” Bruce says. “It was pretty good, yeah. I didn’t have any dreams or anything.” He tenses for a moment, and before Tony can ask him what’s wrong, he pushes himself up and off of Tony’s shoulder. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, smother you. Or something.” He ducks his head, scratching the back of his neck as he sits up. 

Tony shakes his head. “You weren’t smothering me. But I did notice that your clothes smell like smoke. Is that from you or someone else?”

“My dad,” Bruce says, frowning. “I tried smoking at one point, didn’t like it. It made me feel sick.” He shrugs, and Tony sees his eyes flicker to one of his wrists. 

“Good,” Tony says. “Smoking’s a shitty habit. Then again, so is drinking. Speaking of which…” Tony rolls out of the bed and over to his suitcase, digging around until he finds the bottle of vodka he’d packed. “Looky what I brought along!”

Bruce’s eyes widen. “Seriously?  _ Were _ you planning on drinking yourself to death?”

“Jesus, no!” Tony groans. “I just wanted to get a little fucked up, alright?”

“By yourself? That doesn’t seem like much fun.”

“Well, now you’re here so I don’t have to worry about that!” Tony beams. “If you don’t want any, that’s fine. More for me.”

Bruce stares at the bottle, lips pressed into a tight line as he considers his options. Tony poses dramatically with the vodka bottle so Bruce will lighten up a little and reminds him that they  _ will _ have chasers, they just have to grab some from the gas station. After a good five minutes or so of Bruce contemplating what he wants to do, he throws his hands up.

“Fuck it,” he says. “I’ll drink, too. It’s been a while.”

“Ooh, so you’re no newbie to the wonderful world of booze!” Tony says, setting the vodka back into the suitcase for now. “Great. It’s raspberry, so pick out something at the gas station that won’t make you throw up when you chase it.”   
The trip to the gas station is a quick one, Tony buying Bruce an iced tea and himself a soda, and both of them water bottles. “I’ve had a _lot_ of hangovers and let me tell you,” Tony says on the way back to the motel, “I am not driving with one tomorrow. And no, you can’t drive my car even if I do end up being hungover.” 

Bruce refuses to watch even one more minute of the cooking channel when they return to the motel, and instead turns on Sci-Fi, ignoring Tony’s comments about inaccuracies. (“It’s Sci- _ Fi _ , Tony. Science  _ fiction _ . Calm down.”) When Tony has showered and Bruce has let his iced tea chill in the mini fridge for about twenty minutes, they both sit cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. 

“Okay,” Tony says, handing Bruce one of the little plastic cups found on top of the fridge, “you sure you wanna drink? You can turn back now.”

Bruce rolls his eyes at the mischievous grin on Tony’s face and forcefully holds out his cup. “Just pour the stupid vodka.”

“Ah, ah! You gotta respect the vodka if you’re gonna drink it.” Tony waggles his finger.

“Fine,” Bruce says, huffing. “Please pour the vodka, Tony. The wonderful, amazing vodka.”

Tony winks. “Now we’re talkin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO sorry this took so long for me to upload. even though i've already got the entire fic written, depression still makes it incredibly hard to do things i know i have to do. i mean, i don't HAVE to keep updating this fic, but i thrive off of attention, so. anyway! i'll try to update around the same time next week! key word being 'try.'
> 
> please comment! it really means the world to me when people comment and it's the only reason i keep updating this. i appreciate those of you who have bookmarked, commented, and left kudos! thank you all so much. have a lovely week!


	5. alcohol and almosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony and Bruce are drunk and Bruce steals Tony's nose.
> 
> alcohol content warning!

“Bruce, Bruce— oh my God, stop!”

“Okay, but  _ why, _ Tony? Why should I stop?”

“Dude, I don’t think you could fit any more of...  _ that _ in, um, fuck—  _ there _ if you tried. Whatever that thing is called.”

Bruce laughs, pushing Tony’s hand away from his stomach. “You’re a  _ ridiculously _ stupid drunk,” he says, setting a pint of Peppermint Schnapps between his legs. “And I think it’s  _ you _ that couldn’t fit any more of this shit in your stomach if you tried.”

Between the the two of them, Tony had downed about three quarters of the bottle before realizing that Bruce is not as accustomed to the taste of alcohol as he is. He left the rest for Bruce, but apparently even two cups of vodka was not enough to get Bruce drunk. A little tipsy, yes, but not drunk. And Tony wasn’t having any of that. He’d sat there for about ten minutes staring at the wall, trying to think of ways to get Bruce drunk that weren’t illegal. Finally, he’d remembered that a long while ago he’d gone on a road trip with his mom and had packed a pint of Peppermint Schnapps in the front pocket of that suitcase. He never drank it and never even took it out.

So now, Bruce sits with an almost empty pint of Peppermint Schnapps between his legs and the empty bottle of vodka next to him. He’s drunk as hell and Tony, even through his inebriated haze, can see just how warm Bruce feels. His cheeks are flushed and eyes half lidded and Tony wants to jump his bones now more than ever. Somewhere in the back of his mind he scolds himself for drinking, knowing that he’s a horny drunk. But Bruce looks like he’s dying in that sweatshirt and Tony’s pretty sure he’s not going to take it off even if he’s hot. 

“Listen,” Tony slurs, reaching out to snatch up the pint of schnapps. “I don’t care.” He takes a swig before setting it back between Bruce’s legs, hand lingering on the bottle because  _ holy shit he could just reach forward and- _

“Hey, Tony?”

Tony withdraws his hand and finds that he’d been leaning a lot more forward than he originally thought because when he looks up, his nose is almost touching Bruce’s. 

“Yeah?” He breathes.

This is bullshit. This is such bullshit. His drunken mind soberly wonders why he wants to kiss Bruce so badly. Sure, he’d had a little crush on him when they were kids, but they were  _ ten _ . He would have thought that those silly feelings would have gone away by now. Bruce is his best friend, Pepper is his girlfriend. He loves Pepper. He loves Pepper romantically, not Bruce. And even if he did like Bruce like… like that, he still wouldn’t have a chance because Bruce definitely doesn’t feel the same way. Why would Bruce like him? He’s cocky and an asshole and drinks way too much than he should. He’s not the sweet little kid he was when he and Bruce were friends over the internet.

The drunken part of his brain doesn’t care about that, though. He just wants to make out with Bruce and maybe blow him. All he has to do is lean forward and— 

“Got your nose,” Bruce reaches up before Tony can close the gap, pulling back and holding a fist up with his thumb shoved between his index finger and middle finger. There’s a goofy smile on his face and Tony, despite how disappointed he is, can’t help but smile back just from the sight of it.

“Thanks, actually,” Tony says, taking yet another swig of schnapps because he’s hurting in a way he can’t explain. “I was getting tired of smelling your booze breath.”

“Fuck you,” Bruce says, his voice slurred as well. He stares at his hand for a moment before reaching over and booping Tony’s face. “You can have it back. I don’t want it.”

“It’s a perfectly good nose!” Tony pinches Bruce’s nose. “Yours is probably better, though.” 

As the night wears on, Bruce drinks the rest of the schnapps and Tony repeatedly asks him how he’s not dying because someone of Bruce’s age and size should  _ not _ be this tolerant to alcohol, especially if he doesn’t drink often. Despite Bruce being completely hammered by the time they crawl into bed together, Tony still thinks it’s ridiculous. But he tells Bruce several times to never drink as often as he does because Tony likes him too much to see him become like him. Bruce hugs him when he says that and Tony thinks that he kind of likes the smell of smoke on Bruce.

They climb under the covers and Bruce is giggling because Tony made a joke about an old western movie that depicted two cowboys about to fight as they flipped through the channels. (“You know, there would have been a lot less death in the Wild West if they had just built the towns big enough.”) Bruce lies on his side with his hand resting on Tony’s stomach and his pinky finger is brushing against the spot where his shirt rides up and Tony just wishes that Bruce would take his hand away because he can’t handle this amount of torture. He’s beyond drunk and all he can think about is how much he just wants to straddle Bruce and grind on him until he’s begging. 

You know what, fuck it.

“Bruce,” Tony says, turning onto his side as well. “Let me kiss you.”

Bruce blinks at Tony, mouth parting just a bit and Tony thinks  _ Okay, good, easy access. _ Bruce isn’t saying anything and Tony scoots a bit closer, his hand coming to rest on Bruce’s hip. Bruce shakes his head just a little and Tony whines.

“God, Bruce, come on! I’m horny and you’re pretty. It’s not like it means anything!”

Bruce’s mouth closes. 

Sober Tony would kick drunk Tony’s ass right now, if it were possible. But drunk Tony is reeling and flushed and pathetic and when Bruce grabs his wrist, Tony thinks something in his favor is going to happen but it doesn’t.

“No,” Bruce says, voice flat. “You have Pepper, Tony. And besides, I’m not interested in boys. Men. Whatever.” Tony thinks that he sees him wince but right now he can’t really comprehend anything. He can’t even comprehend enough of anything to feel hurt by Bruce’s statement. “You’re drunk. Just… close your eyes and go to sleep.” 

Tony almost immediately does what Bruce says, closing his eyes and turning over onto his back again. He’s forgotten why he turned on his side in the first place and all he wants to do is lie here and feel the world tilting around him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t register that Bruce’s hand is still wrapped around his and he doesn’t register Bruce pressing a small kiss to his shoulder and after he falls asleep, he definitely doesn’t register Bruce getting out of bed and leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh. where is bruce going? we just don't know! well, i do. stay tuned, folks.


	6. train tracks and scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce tests a theory and Tony doesn't think that the train tracks are a suitable place to sleep.
> 
> content warning: suicide attempt sort of, self harm mention, mention of PAST suicide attempts, it's just sad shit all around i'm so sorry

It’s three-thirty in the morning when Tony wakes up, still feeling rather drunk. He moves an arm to attempt to throw it over Bruce somehow, but when he does, his arm meets nothing but empty mattress. He opens his eyes and Bruce is nowhere to be seen in the dim light. The TV is still on and so is the lamp in the corner of the room and Tony can’t figure out where Bruce is. Did he leave? Did he lie to Tony and leave him? No, he wouldn’t have done that. Then again, Tony’s only known eighteen-year-old Bruce for a couple days. He doesn’t really know what he’s like. He  _ does _ , however, know that he’s not okay with letting Bruce get away only to wander the streets alone at night. 

Tony clumsily pushes himself out of bed and the first thing he notices is Bruce’s backpack still sitting in the room, his hoodie lying on the floor next to it. Maybe Bruce is in the bathroom changing? Peeking around the corner, though, Tony finds nothing. He feels like he might, once again, throw up. And not from the alcohol.

Maybe he went for a walk to cool down.  _ Yeah _ , Tony thinks,  _ that’s gotta be it! He’s fine. Bruce is fine. He just overheated. _

Even so, Tony still has a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach and he knows that something is very, very wrong. So with a drunken mind and not much control over his limbs, Tony exits their motel room and begins to walk. He briefly considers taking his car, but he knows that will only end badly for him. Walking while drunk isn’t the best idea either, but he  _ has _ to find Bruce. He has to.

“Bruce!” Tony calls out once he comes near the main road. It’s still dark out and Tony can only see what the moon illuminates. He stares down the length of the road, both right and left, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He still can’t see anything.

Which way should he go? God, what a fucking mess he is. He’s drunk and wandering around outside trying to find his best friend at three-thirty in the morning. 

Just when Tony’s about to say fuck it and play eenie-meenie-miny-mo to decide which way to go, he sees headlights in his right field of vision. Now, Tony’s stupid, and he knows this. But he’s not usually so stupid as to run out in front of an oncoming car for any reason. Tonight, though, he’ll make an exception. 

Waving his arms and shouting as he stumbles out near the middle of the road, Tony briefly wonders if Bruce would have done the same thing for him had it been Tony that disappeared instead. Thankfully, the car actually slows down when it nears Tony and Tony is able to jog over to the driver’s side window.

“You okay, buddy?” The woman in the car asks, and Tony shakes his head.

“I’m looking for my friend,” he pants. “Did you see anyone walking along the side of the road on your way up here?”

The woman nods and Tony feels like he can breathe again. “Yeah, some guy was walkin’ not too far from here. If that’s your friend, you can probably catch ‘im quick if you run.” 

“Thank you so much,” Tony nods at her and she simply casts him a look of curious confusion before rolling her window up and taking off down the road again. 

Tony wastes no time in running as fast as his legs made of jelly will go, his chest heaving and his mind swimming with incoherent thoughts. He just hopes that Bruce is okay. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to give Tony someone he’s been missing for six years only to take him away again, would it?

It’s a good fifteen minutes of labored running later that Tony finds that it  _ would  _ be that cruel.

He’s not dead. At least, not yet. But that’s all Tony needs. 

The train tracks they’d driven over just before the motel run directly through the road, then lead through a small pond next to the road. Tony takes a minute to catch his breath, just staring at Bruce lying on those train tracks before calmly approaching him. He knows Bruce can hear him walking up, but the boy doesn’t so much as glance at Tony as he walks up to him. A moment of staring down at Bruce, and then Tony is lowering himself to lie next to him. 

“Seems like a pretty uncomfortable place to try and sleep,” Tony says. “Lots of rocks.” 

Bruce chuckles. “Well, I was thinking it’d be worth it for the kind of sleep I was going for.”

“Right,” Tony nods. “So. Why exactly are you lying on the railroad tracks? You do know that trains run on these.”

“I told you that I was going away forever,” Bruce says.

“Yeah, but then you said you wouldn’t,” Tony says, brow furrowed. “So you just lied to me?” 

“Yes and no,” Bruce says uncertainly. “I planned on, uh… leaving. Before I stayed the night with you. Then, seeing how happy you were to see me, I just decided that maybe I could stay. Someone wanted me to stay, y’know? It’s a nice feeling. But then I started thinking about stuff.” He pauses, eyes trained on the sky. Tony waits for him to continue speaking, having sobered up quite a bit by now. “I guess we are invincible.”

Tony blinks. “What?”

“I’d said earlier that I thought we might really be invincible because you survived your suicide attempt, and I survived a couple of my own.” Tony watches as Bruce’s fingers graze over the thick white scar on his wrist. “But then you said that thing about how we couldn’t die before we found each other again, and I thought that maybe… maybe you were right. And that since we finally did find each other, we weren’t invincible anymore. I wanted to test it, I guess.”

Tony presses his lips into a thin line. “Bruce, that’s kind of stupid.”

Bruce shrugs, a small smile forming on his face. “Maybe, but it was a win-win situation for me. If you didn’t wake up and come find me in time, I would die. Which is what I set out to do in the first place. But if you did wake up in time and find me, I’d live and we’d keep on being invincible. Kinda stupid.”

“Seriously, Bruce,” Tony says critically. “You scared the shit out of me. I’m kind of pissed.” 

Silence. Tony looks away from Bruce for a moment, looking up at the same stars Bruce is staring at. Then, Tony hears a sniffle. He looks over to see tears running down Bruce’s temples.

“I know,” Bruce chokes out. “I’m sorry, Tony, I’m so fucking sorry. I just don’t— I don’t want to go back, y’know?” He lets out a sob and Tony reaches over and takes Bruce’s hand in his own. He’d been digging his nails into his arm. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. If I leave the house but stay in the city, he’ll find me, Tony. I-I know he will.”

“Your dad?” Tony asks softly.

Bruce nods, another sob leaving his throat. “I’ve tried to get away before. Betty found me both times. There was, um, this one—” he lifts his arm to show Tony the scar on his wrist. “And the other time it was pills. I didn’t know what else to do and I still don’t.”

Tony rubs his thumb over Bruce’s knuckles. “Neither do I,” he admits with a sigh. “But… we’ll figure something out. I promise. We’re invincible, yeah?”

Bruce laughs in a strangled manner. “Yeah. I wish we weren’t sometimes.”

Tony silently agrees with that statement, both of them going quiet for a long moment. It’s when Tony hears a train whistle in the distance that he decides they should get going. Bruce reluctantly joins him, their hands remaining clasped together as they walk back to the motel. Bruce sniffles and wipes at his face, apologizing profusely to Tony for pulling this stunt and stressing him out. Tony tells him to  _ please _ , stop apologizing, he forgives him but he never wants him to do it again. He just wants Bruce to talk to him about things so maybe he can keep them from getting so bad.

When they return to the motel, Tony panics because he didn’t remember to grab a keycard on his way out, but he discovers that he didn’t even close the door all the way in the first place. Whoops.

All of their things are untouched, at least. It didn’t seem likely that anyone would go in there anyway, what with it being four in the morning in the middle of nowhere. 

In the light, Tony can really see Bruce’s arms.

Bruises everywhere, scars from cigarette butts being put out on him, scars that were dealt by his own hand and scars that he suffered under another. It makes Tony want to cry out of sheer anger. But when Bruce sees him staring, his face turns red and he immediately goes to put his hoodie back on.

“Shit, sorry,” Tony shakes his head, stepping forward and placing a hand on Bruce’s forearm. “You don’t have to put that back on. I won’t stare anymore, I was just… caught off guard by, um. How much there is.”

Bruce stops putting his hoodie on halfway, relaxing and letting it fall back off him. He nods. “Yeah, I know. It’s… kind of gross. I  _ can _ put the sweater on if you want.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “I’ve, uh, got similar scars. On my hips. Y’know, the ones you made yourself? Yeah.” 

Bruce softens, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, Tony. I never would have pegged you as someone who would do that.” He scratches the back of his neck as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed. Tony joins him.

“Most people wouldn’t,” Tony says. “Even Pepper doesn’t know.”

“Really?” Bruce cocks his head. “But haven’t you guys, y’know, seen each other…?”

“Naked?” Tony raises an eyebrow at Bruce, chuckling. “Yeah. But only ever in low lighting.” 

“Ah,” Bruce nods. “Makes sense.”

Tony climbs back under the covers, gesturing for Bruce to join him. “I’m still a little tipsy. How about you?”

“Not at all.” Bruce lifts the blankets to slide under them, his head resting near Tony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m ever too, um, physical? I guess? You have a girlfriend and you’re bi and I don’t know how comfortable she would be with you letting a guy sleep on you.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I like you.” Yikes. “She knows you’re my old best friend so she’d be fine with it, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, but would you be okay with her doing something like this with another guy?” 

Tony blinks. Huh, okay, there’s definitely a hint of jealousy there when he thinks about Pepper sharing a bed with another man and being so physically open with him. “Well, I can’t say I wouldn’t be a little jealous, but if she told me that there was nothing between them I’d believe her. She doesn’t lie to me.” 

Bruce hums in acknowledgement, scooting closer. “Well, then,” he says, putting his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Y’know, most straight guys would never be this comfortable with another guy, especially if that other guy  _ isn’t _ straight,” Tony says.

“I know,” Bruce says quietly. “It’s just— I’m not exactly…” He sighs. “It’s been a while, is all. Since I’ve had, like,  _ positive  _ physical contact.”

Tony purses his lips. “Yeah. Okay.”

They’re quiet after that, Bruce’s head on Tony’s shoulder and his arm slung over his torso. Tony can feel when Bruce falls asleep by the sound of his breathing evening out. He wonders if Bruce really meant that— the whole thing about never having any positive forms of physical contact being the only reason he’s okay with being like this with Tony. It’s a selfish thing to think. Bruce has been abused for what Tony is pretty sure is his whole life, so it makes sense that being physical with literally anyone and not getting hurt as a result would make Bruce happy. But he can’t help but wish that Bruce wanted this kind of thing specifically with  _ him _ . 

Tony falls asleep thinking that Bruce deserves better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THIS GOT SAD don't worry i'll update soon lmao


	7. panic attacks and suicide jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce would rather die than go home and Tony finds out a little something about him.

Tony wakes up at ten in the morning with a small headache and a sore neck from sleeping in an awkward position and he only slightly regrets not drinking more water. Nothing a little Tylenol won’t fix, though. Bruce is completely fine, the lucky bastard. He only sort of teases Tony for what he considers to be a low alcohol tolerance. 

They’re checked out of the motel by eleven and Tony calls Pepper to let her know that they’re on their way back. She demands to be introduced to Bruce in school tomorrow. In her own words: “If you don’t introduce me to the boy that I’m pretty sure you love more than you love me, I  _ will _ dump you on the spot.” Tony laughs. So does Pepper. Something about it makes Tony feel weird.

When they’re on the road again, Bruce is quiet. It’s not that Tony minds him being quiet, it’s just that he’s… frozen. Tony started out the car ride by blasting classic rock, but not even ten minutes later he’d changed to plain old classical music because Bruce had gone stock still aside from his trembling. Despite how much Tony dislikes Bruce’s choice in tunes, he could see that the loud rock music was bothering him and he remembered Bruce saying that classical music calmed him down.

After a good twenty minutes of driving in silence (save for the music playing softly in the background) Tony finally speaks up.

“Alright,” he says, just as they’re about to enter the freeway. He pulls off to the side of the road and puts the car in park. “What the hell is going on with you? You look like a fucking statue. During an earthquake.” 

Bruce doesn’t respond right away, swallowing thickly as he keeps his eyes trained on his clenched fists. 

“Dude, seriously, this— this  _ thing _ you got going on is freaking me out.” Tony looks at him pointedly, waiting for an explanation of some sort.

Bruce takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just— I feel like I can’t breathe? And I’m shaking. And I feel like I want to throw up.”

“Please don’t,” Tony says. “This car is really expensive and nice and I’d rather you  _ not _ puke in it. Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

“No, no!” Bruce shakes his head. “It’s just a, um, panic attack.”

“A panic attack.”

“Yeah. I’ve had enough of them to know what they feel like.” Bruce takes another shaky breath, unclenching his fists on his lap.

“Well,” Tony says, “why are you having a panic attack?” He thinks he already knows why, but he’s trying to see if talking about it will help Bruce calm down. He wouldn’t know; he’s never had a panic attack or an anxiety attack before as far as he’s aware. Maybe he  _ has _ had one but simply didn’t know it was an attack.

“I just… I don’t want to go home,” Bruce says through his teeth. “He’s going to be pissed, Tony. I didn’t tell him I was leaving.”

“Aren’t you eighteen?” Tony asks. “You technically don’t have to go back to him.”

Bruce hesitates. “Yeah, but—” he looks at Tony and Tony can see the fear in his eyes. “He’ll find me. I’ve ran away before and- and he found me. Even if I’m eighteen he won’t let me leave. He’s probably already told the cops I’m missing.”

“Like I said, though. You’re eighteen. The cops can’t really do much.” Tony says.

Bruce looks uneasy, his eyes diverting from Tony’s and his hands wringing together nervously. “Actually, Tony… um, about that.”

Tony’s concerned expression turns into one of aggravation. “Don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.”

“I’m— I’m not eighteen,” Bruce says quietly. Tony sees tears form in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Tony, I am! But I knew you wouldn’t take me anywhere with you if you found out I was still a minor. I mean, I turn eighteen in like, four months—”

“Damn right I wouldn’t have taken you with me!” Tony glares at Bruce. He’s not  _ too _ upset. He understands why Bruce would lie to him. Tony would probably lie about that too if he were trying to get away from an abusive father. But still. “I don’t care how far you are from being eighteen. You’re still a minor, Bruce. We could both get into a lot of trouble with this! Your dad could accuse me of kidnapping you and  _ you _ could get beaten within an inch of your life because you  _ have _ to go back to him.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Bruce mutters. He still won’t look at Tony. “And I wasn’t planning on going back. You know that.” He sniffles.

“Okay, but Bruce, that still puts me in the middle of things,” Tony says, his voice coming out more snappy than he means for it to. “You’re a  _ minor. _ We both disappeared at basically the same time. Your dad would go to the police, my dad is  _ friends _ with the Chief of Police, and they would have made some connection. Maybe. My dad might not have  even noticed that I was gone.” He huffs. “My point is that either way, things would have turned out shitty.”

When he looks back at Bruce, the boy is glaring at him, angry tears streaking his face. Tony blinks in surprise.

“How was I supposed to fucking know that you were leaving, too? I tried to get you to leave me on the side of the road but  _ you _ were the one who insisted I stay!” Bruce looks pissed, and Tony remembers Pepper saying something about him looking angry at nothing during gym class sometimes. But then, that doesn’t mean anything. People get angry. It happens. Besides, Bruce seems like he tries really hard to keep his anger  _ in _ check. Anyone in this situation would get snappy.

Tony doesn’t respond right away, just stares right back at Bruce with a stern expression. His angry expression is unfaltering, but so is Tony’s for about ten seconds. Tony breaks first.

“Fine,” he says curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have a point. I guess.” Bruce turns away to glare out the window and Tony can still see his shoulders shaking. Pity washes over him. “Shit, Bruce. Look, I don’t think I can do anything about it today. But you can literally come over any time you want to, okay? You don’t even have to call or text or anything. You can just come over and the doors will always be open to you. Well, after we run facial recognition software on you, at least. Then you can come over whenever you want.”

Bruce turns to peek at Tony. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Tony grins. “Hell, even if I’m not there you can just come over and hang out with my mom or by yourself if that’s more your speed.”  
  
Bruce looks at him with wide eyes. “Tony,” he breathes, “that’s… a lot. Are you sure you’re okay with that? Are you sure your _parents_ would be okay with that?”

“Dad won’t even know you’re there most of the time,” Tony shrugs. “And mom would be happy to see you. You remember her, don’t you? You met her over Skype a couple times. She thought you were so cute and, uh, actually! She still brings you up sometimes.” He leans over to gently place his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Seriously. Come over whenever you want after we get your face all analyzed. Then you can just walk in and make yourself at home!”

More tears spill from Bruce’s eyes and Tony wonders if he said something wrong. He asks Bruce just that question.

“No, you— you said everything right,” Bruce laughs weakly. “You just keep surprising me, is all. I didn’t really think you’d want me around anymore after last night.”

Tony feels his heart break a little. “Bruce, you fucked up last night, that much I’ll admit,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t know what that feels like. But I can imagine it sucks—” Bruce is holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, and Tony is fighting back giggles of his own. “Just because you fucked up doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life anymore, Freckles. Trust me. And I  _ do _ , occasionally, fuck up as well.”

Bruce snorts. “Yeah, uh-huh. Occasionally.”

“Hey, you’ve known me for like, two days! You have no proof.”

“Yeah, and last night you got a minor drunk.”

“Damn it,” Tony says, snapping his fingers. “You got me there.”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone about this,” Bruce says, catching Tony off guard. “About any of it. I won’t tell my dad that I was with you. You don’t have to worry about getting in trouble. It would probably just get me into more trouble if I told him I was with you, actually.” 

As Tony puts the car back in gear and pulls back onto the road so they can merge onto the freeway, he lets out a long sigh. “Okay,” he says, nodding. “Thank you. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t get into any trouble at all, but… I know that’s not an option. And I know you’ve probably thought about this, but why don’t you call the cops on your dad? Or child protective services?”

“Um,” Bruce’s breath hitches, “when my mom died, we were taken to court for… reasons. I was little, Tony. He scared me into not telling them about how he treated me. He still scares me. If he finds out that I called someone, he’ll just lie his way out of it and then, well. You know.” 

Tony runs a hand through his hair. “So your only chance at this point is to turn eighteen and get the fuck out. Great.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not that far away so I don’t have to deal with it for much longer!” Bruce says hopefully. His smile falls. “Maybe. I’m still worried that he’ll come after me if I try to leave.”

“Well, that’s when you come to me and I kick his ass!” Tony grins cockily. “Because I will, Bruce. Count on that.”

Bruce gives a pathetic laugh. “Yeah,” he says, voice cracking. He looks at Tony and Tony does his best to return it even though his eyes are on the road. “Um, so, I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about me being with you this weekend. You’re… you’re not gonna tell anyone about me, right?”

“Of course not!” Tony says, offended that Bruce would even  _ think _ Tony would blab about this kind of thing. 

“Not even Pepper?”

“Oh,  _ especially _ not Pepper,” Tony says. “If I told Pepper about the shit you go through, she wouldn’t be so quiet about it. And I don’t mean that she’d tell people at school about it, I mean she’d try to tell any adult about it and land you in an even bigger pile of shit with your dad. So no, definitely not telling her. Or anyone else for that matter. Promise. See? No crossies!” Tony grins, taking his hands off the wheel to show Bruce that he is, in fact, not crossing his fingers.

“Tony— Tony, stop! Stop!” Bruce says, his voice rising higher than Tony thought it could. Tony puts his hands back on the wheel, laughing while Bruce glares at him. The younger boy appears to literally melt into the seat when Tony’s hands return to the wheel. “Seriously?” He says, and Tony glances over at him only to see him wearing an irritated smile. “I’m over here trying to calm down from a panic attack and you take your damn hands off the wheel. Thanks for that, Tony. Really.”

“I had my knee on it, though!” Tony protests, laughing. “C’mon, I’m not  _ that _ stupid. You may wanna die, but I definitely don’t want you to.” He pauses. “And yes, I know that statement was in poor taste.”

Bruce laughs breathlessly. “God, it’s fine. You’re allowed to make jokes like that because, I mean, you tried to die too, so. You get a free pass. Just don’t say stuff like that around other people.”

“Understood, captain,” Tony salutes him. “No suicide jokes in public. Got it.”

Bruce snorts and shakes his head before reaching forward to hit the recline button for the passenger seat. “I’m gonna just. Not talk for a while, okay?”

Tony nods. “Radio on or off?”

“On.”

“Gotcha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOO okay so. there's a song i want you guys to listen to after a few more chapters have been posted. so i'll tell you then. but jesus fuck ok anyway i'm so glad that at least a few people are liking this. it makes me really happy and also idk if any of you know who thomas sanders is but i got to meet him last night!! i would have updated last night if i hadn't been at his show. he was a total sweetheart and i miss him. anyway i hope you guys all liked this chapter! an update will come within the next week and a half!! pls comment :')


	8. bruises and introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce is a little banged up, Pepper is a mother-hen, and Tony is a bit naive.
> 
> Content warning: pot smoking, mentions of abuse

Tony really doesn’t want to drop Bruce off back at his house. He wants to take Bruce home with him and keep him there without his dad ever figuring out where he is.

“Hey,” Tony says as he puts the car in park. They’re parked at the end of the street so that Bruce’s dad won’t look out the window and see them. “How about I just make a replacement Bruce? I mean, I’m pretty good at engineering so I feel like I could make a decent robot-Bruce. The eyes might be a little on the red side, though. Think lasers would be a good idea? Then maybe your robot-self could take out your dad—”

“Tony,” Bruce says, his voice barely above a whisper. The fear in his voice but the obvious resignation on his face is a combination that makes Tony intensely uncomfortable. “No robots. Just me. I’ll be fine, it’s not like I’m not used to it, y’know?” He gives Tony a weak, unconvincing smile. “I’ll just see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

Tony presses his lips together and furrows his brow, taking a deep breath. “Okay. You can come over some time this week and we’ll— we’ll get your face all scanned and stuff. Then you can walk in whenever the hell you want. Just… good luck. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m willingly letting you walk into this.”

Bruce shrugs, telling Tony that it’s not his fault and there’s nothing he can do about it anyway. Tony wants to believe that. He so desperately wants to believe that it  _ hurts _ , but he doesn’t. He just doesn’t. Even so, he knows Bruce is going to go back in there no matter what.

Bruce grabs his backpack from the back seat, hesitating for just a moment before saying one last goodbye to Tony and heading off down the road to his house. Tony waits to leave until he sees Bruce disappear inside his house. He only hopes that Bruce doesn’t disappear for good.

He feels like he’s in a stupor the entire drive back to his home, which isn’t that far from Bruce’s, surprisingly. It’s only a ten minute drive, so if Bruce ever needed to walk to Tony’s place he could do so pretty easily. That’s one relieving thing about today. He just feels so detached and anxious and he doesn’t know what to do to help Bruce because he feels like he has to do  _ something _ . He doesn’t want to let Bruce keep living in that household but he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He wholeheartedly believes Bruce when he says that his father would simply lie his way out of going to jail for abuse. There’s no way for Bruce to win until he turns eighteen and even then it seems like a risky situation. 

When Tony finds himself at his house (mansion, really) he doesn’t even bother to get his suitcase from the back. He just wants to go inside and crash on the couch. Driving for three and a half hours really took a lot out of him and he’s just  _ tired _ and wants to sleep so he can forget about what he let Bruce walk in to back there. His mother isn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow morning but God, Tony wishes she was home right now so he could curl up on the couch while she rubs his back. Nothing sounds better.

He sends a quick text to Pepper to let her know that he and Bruce got home safely before letting his tired body collapse onto the sofa in the family room, his eyes closing and tears flowing.

 

Tony wakes up several times in the night, once going upstairs to his room to play some video games, falling back asleep in his bean bag chair, then waking up again to go to his lab so he can work on Dummy, a robot in progress. Not much progress has been made on it, much to Tony’s disappointment. He may be a genius, but he’s a genius in training and he hopes that college will give him the knowledge and tools necessary to finish building Dummy, blah blah blah. Even if he doesn’t have much to work with, though, what little he does still have helps to mellow him out and take his mind off of things. He stays awake until four in the morning screwing around in his lab before falling asleep again at his desk, hunched over a pile of papers.

He wakes up an hour and a half later to the sound of his alarm going off and he puts it on snooze for fifteen minutes so he can simply keep his eyes closed a bit longer.

Then he remembers Bruce.

_ That _ wakes him up. He immediately pushes himself out of the chair, mind racing with memories from yesterday and how he needs to actually go to school to make sure Bruce is okay. He wishes that Bruce had a phone so Tony could text him or call him or  _ something _ but—

Wait. Skype! He’ll have to ask Bruce today if he still has a computer. That would make communicating with him outside of school a hell of a lot easier because, at the moment, they have absolutely no way to talk outside of school unless they’re physically near each other. And they can’t always be with each other when they’re not at school, unfortunately.

A quick shower, some cover-up to make his face look less blotchy (really, why is it so strange for men to wear makeup?), and a granola bar from the kitchen pantry and Tony is on his way. He doesn’t care if he’s a few minutes late to his first hour and neither does that particular teacher, so he stops for a coffee and a joint to calm his nerves. It’s not often that he smokes pot— only when he’s feeling particularly high strung and today is one of those days. He’s full of nervous energy and just wants it to be sixth hour so he can see Bruce. Damn Pepper for having two classes with him. She’ll probably end up introducing herself to him before Tony can.

That’s not exactly what happens.

Second hour hits and Tony receives a text from Pepper saying that she doesn’t see Bruce anywhere. She asks Tony if everything’s okay.

Tony replies that he’s sure it is, but he doesn’t believe himself. He doesn’t believe himself a lot these days. Bruce should be here, shouldn’t he? Unless his dad  _ really _ hurt him last night. The thought makes Tony turn pale. He knew something like this would happen, and what did he do? He let Bruce walk into that house. God fucking damn it.

Tony can’t focus more than usual for the next two hours. Lunch is spent outside instead of in for Tony, the fresh air helping to clear his mind for a bit. Third hour rolls around and Pepper hugs Tony as soon as she sees him, kissing his cheek and pushing the hair back from his face.

“You smell like pot,” she says with a tight smile. “Were you smoking at lunch?” She keeps her voice down as she pulls Tony to their seats.

“Nope,” Tony shakes his head. “Before school I did. It must’ve stuck to me. My bad.”

“You only smoke when you’re stressed out,” Pepper raises an eyebrow. 

“You are correct.”

“You just found your childhood best friend, Tony,” she says. “I would think you’d be happy.”

“I am happy,” Tony says, his tone sincere. “I am, Pepps, I swear. There’s just some shit going on at home that I’d rather not be dealing with right now.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Pepper asks, taking Tony’s hand in her own. Tony squeezes it in thanks.

“Not right now, no,” Tony says, a grateful smile on his face. “Probably not for a while. It’s nothing you can do anything about so please just— don’t worry, okay?”

Pepper purses her lips, looking Tony’s expression over before nodding. “Okay, Tony.” She smiles. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, so am I.”

Tony’s beyond thankful for Pepper’s presence in his life. Meeting her in tenth grade was a goddamn blessing in disguise. She’s got such a comforting aura and Tony doesn’t know shit about auras. She’s the only thing that keeps him from accidentally killing himself. Before her, he was even more reckless than he is now. Sure, he still goes out to parties and drinks like a monster and he still drives a little faster than is probably safe  _ and _ he acts impulsively without really thinking, especially when she’s not around, but he doesn’t sleep around at those parties anymore and he hydrates when he drinks and wears a seatbelt whenever he drives now. He’d say that’s an improvement.

Senior Composition is probably one of Tony’s favorite classes if only for the fact that he gets to stand at the front of the class and  _ talk. _ He loves it. Even if the topics of what he’s allowed to talk about are sometimes mind-numbingly boring, he still finds a way to make it entertaining for everyone. Now that they’re two months into the school year, their teacher has started doing impromptu speeches. Tony is convinced that he’s the only person in class (aside from Rogers) who actually likes doing those. They often get a random topic and are only allowed five minutes to prepare the speech for that topic. Pepper hates it. She tends to freeze. But Tony’s been helping her to get over her stage fright, so hopefully she’ll be able to give speeches that are better than Tony’s at some point. Key word being  _hopefully._

The impromptu speeches are what get Tony through that hour without falling asleep. He knocks his out of the park (the speech had, ironically, been about baseball) and Pepper does really well on her’s. Tony’s proud and kisses her on the cheek and tells her what a great job she did, to which Pepper says, “I know I did. I learned from you.” Tony feels all warm at her words.

They don’t see each other until sixth hour after that, and Tony’s anxious to see if Bruce turned up at all.

So when he walks in and sees Bruce sitting in his usual seat with his hood drawn up and his head down, Tony feels a giant sigh of relief escape him. Bruce is okay. He just overslept or felt sick or something. He doesn’t see Pepper anywhere yet, so he takes this opportunity to steal the seat next to Bruce. 

The boy visibly jumps, his head snapping up to look at Tony.

“Heya, Brucey—” Tony’s grin is wiped clean off his face when he sees the large black and blue blotch on Bruce’s face, slightly swollen with a band-aid stuck on his upper cheek. Tony immediately feels and overwhelming amount of guilt. _He let Bruce walk into that._

Bruce almost instantly looks away from Tony, facing the desk again. “It’s fine, Tony,” he says, and Tony doesn’t believe him for one second. “Really. I’m okay.”

Tony glares at him. “Doesn’t look like you are,” he says, keeping his voice down. “Bruce.  Bruce, look at me. Please.”

Bruce takes a shuddering breath before turning his head to face Tony. His eyes refuse to make contact with Tony’s, but it’s good enough.

“It looks worse than it is,” Bruce mumbles.

“Did this happen this morning? Is this why you weren’t here?” Tony asks, reaching up to  push Bruce’s hood out of the way so he can get a better look at it. It’s dark and it takes up most of his left cheek, the cut (which is what Tony assumes the band-aid is covering) on his cheekbone shouldn’t be too big if a simple band-aid took care of it. But it’s still bad. Any amount of bruising that comes from your parent is bad. 

“It happened last night,” Bruce says. “I wasn’t here this morning because I woke up with a headache and went back to sleep. We’re out of painkillers at home.” 

Tony frowns, then reaches into a pocket at the front of his backpack and pulls out a bottle  of Ibuprofen. “I gotcha covered,” he says, spilling two onto his hand before handing them to Bruce along with his water bottle. “Careful. Mono’s going around so swapping spit could be dangerous.” He teases, hoping to get Bruce to at least  _ crack _ a smile.

He gets one. But instead of a tiny, regular smile, it’s the “I can’t believe what comes out of your mouth sometimes” smile that Bruce always seems to wear when Tony says anything at all. It’s endearing.

“I really doubt that I could get any more tired than I already am.” Bruce swallows the pills  with water before handing the bottle back to Tony. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Tony says. “Hopefully that takes any, uh,  _ throbbing _ away. Because I’m pretty sure I can feel your pulse just like this.” He sets his fingers gently on the bruise and sure enough, he can definitely feel it throbbing. “Yeah. That doesn’t feel so good.”

“How do you think  _ I _ feel?” Bruce says, his tone heavy with bitterness. 

“Yeah, now you see why I didn’t want you to go back in— Pepper!” Tony plasters a grin onto his face for his girlfriend, taking his hand away from Bruce’s face. He’s glad that none of the other students are paying any attention to them. “Hey! I got someone for you to meet.” He looks at Bruce. “You have a cover story, right?” He whispers.

“Duh.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here before me,” Pepper says. She looks down at Bruce before pulling up a seat next to him. “Well, then, introduce me!”

Tony chuckles. “Pepper, this is Bruce— the long lost best friend himself. Bruce, this is Pepper. Expert in all things Tony.”

Pepper beams at Bruce, holding out a hand for him to shake. When he looks up at her to shake her hand, Pepper’s smile falls. “Oh, my gosh, what happened to your face? I mean, it’s nice to meet you, but what happened to your face?”

“Ah, I got jumped yesterday taking a walk. When the guys realized I didn’t have any money on me they weren’t too happy.” Bruce shrugs. “And it’s nice to meet you too.”

Tony almost laughs at the cover story, but Pepper seems to be buying it. She looks beyond concerned and Tony recognizes her expression as her mother-hen face. 

“Did you at least call the police?” Pepper asks.

“Nah. They were gone before I could do that and I couldn’t remember what they looked like. But I mean, it’s really no big deal. I’m not dead and they didn’t get any money off of me.” Bruce grins and Tony is slightly impressed by how good he is at lying about this. It also makes him feel a little queasy.

Pepper looks at him uncertainly. “Okay, if you say so. I hope it heals up okay. You look like you have a nice face, it’d be a shame to ruin it.” She laughs, and Tony sees Bruce’s face turn a light shade of pink. The kid’s not used to compliments. “Well, it was really nice to finally meet you, but I have to finish up some last minute homework I fell asleep on last night.” She smiles at Tony. “Are you going to sit here today, or…?”

“If I can get away with it without the teacher noticing,” Tony nods. “We could probably get Bruce’s seat moved over next to us later.” He gently nudges Bruce’s arm.

“I’d… I’d like that,” Bruce says.

“Sweet!” Tony grins.

Pepper nods in agreement before heading over to her seat, leaving Tony alone with Bruce once again.

“Dude,” he says, “you sound like you’ve had a lot of practice with this whole ‘lying’ thing.”

“Well, yeah,” Bruce says with a shrug. “I kind of had to. I constantly told you when we were little that it was classmates. I told my classmates and teachers it was cousins, and then as I got older I told everyone it was people in my neighborhood. Which wasn’t always a lie. I lived in a pretty shitty part of town.”

Tony blinks, raising an eyebrow. “In Ohio?”

“I know,” Bruce chuckles. “It seems kind of far-fetched. Nothing ever happens in Ohio.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay,” he says. “Well, good job lying about that shit. You shouldn’t have to, though.”

“I guess,” Bruce shrugs. It’s always shrugs with Bruce. He doesn’t seem to care that much about himself and that both breaks Tony’s heart and greatly angers him. Bruce  _ should _ care about himself. And if he won’t care about himself just because he’s  _ Bruce _ , then he should care about himself because he’s Tony’s friend. It’s selfish, but Tony’s always been a little on the selfish side. “Anyway, my counselor wants to see me after school and I’m  _ really _ hoping it’s not because of… this.” He gestures to his face as a whole.

“It might be,” Tony says. “But it could also be because they’re still trying to figure out which classes get what students and who gets stuck with what teacher. Some classes are too full so they’re sticking kids into other classes.”

Bruce hums in acknowledgement. “I hope that’s what it’s about. I really don’t want to talk to any adults about this because God knows they’re  _ way _ more persistent than we are.”

“Yeah,” Tony nods. “But hey, on a lighter note, how about you come over tomorrow and we get you all set up with a key to my place?” 

Bruce blinks. “I didn’t think you were actually serious about that, honestly.”

Tony sort of wants to punch Bruce for never taking anything he says seriously, but then he decides that it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to punch someone who’d just been beaten by their own dad. “Oh, my God, Bruce,” he groans. “When will you learn that I  _ can _ be serious sometimes? You. Are. My best. Friend. I don’t care how  _ you _ rank  _ me _ on your list of friends, but I’m telling you right now that you’re my best friend and you get best friend privileges.” 

Bruce is quiet for a moment, brow furrowed. “Don’t you think it’s weird how we’re so comfortable with each other after not seeing each other for six years?” He asks. “I mean, for most people there would be at least a  _ hint _ of awkwardness.”

“Well, I’m Tony Stark, so no awkwardness coming from my end of things,” Tony says. Bruce snorts. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one emitting any awkward vibes.”

“Yeah, because we haven’t seen each other in six fucking years!” Bruce snaps, throwing his arms up in frustration. “We’re two completely different people now, Tony.”

“First of all, no we’re not,” Tony says matter-of-factly. “I’m still Tony and you’re still Bruce. Sure, we grew up and we’ve gone through some shit, but we’re still ourselves. We can relearn what the other is like by acting like nothing ever happened. That’s not to say that nothing  _ did _ happen, but if we pretend that we’ve been together all this time, it’ll become natural. And second of all, where the hell is the teacher?” The bell had rung a good two minutes ago, but no teacher had shown up. 

Just as Tony is about to stand up and start teaching the class himself (maybe then the kids in here will actually  _ learn _ something), the door opens and Miss Anne walks in. Tony slumps down in his seat in hopes that she won’t see that he’s not where he’s supposed to be, and he thinks that when she makes eye contact with him she’ll immediately force him back to his assigned seat. But instead, she simply rolls her eyes and shakes her head. She does not, fortunately for Tony, move him. Tony will have to remember to thank her for not being a pain in the ass for once.

Class continues with Tony annoying Bruce at every given opportunity. He passes him drawings of Miss Anne that she would definitely not appreciate, he makes jokes about particles (“Hey, Bruce. I think I lost an electron. Better keep an  _ ion _ that.” “Tony, I swear to God.”), and constantly points out every inaccuracy the teacher makes. (“Yes, Tony, I  _ know _ that she’s wrong. I’ve got a genius level I.Q. too, y’know.”) It makes Tony’s heart warm when he sees Bruce giggling or even just smiling at his antics. All he can think is that that’s how Bruce should be all the time. Smiling and laughing, not aching and wishing the floor would swallow him up.

When the day is over, Tony is forced to leave Bruce once again. He’d made plans with Pepper to go see a movie after school and then help her study for the physics test afterwards, so Tony can’t even wait until Bruce is done with his counselor meeting to say goodbye. Once again, he doesn’t want to let Bruce go back to his house. He doesn’t know how often the beatings occur, but he figures if Bruce is home, he’s game. And that scares Tony.

He tells Bruce he’ll see him tomorrow and he tries his best to make his thoughts stray from Bruce while he’s out with Pepper. It’s a bit easier to do that when she makes out with him in the back of the theater and it’s definitely easier to think about other things when their study session turns into a little something more.

That’s the first time Tony feels guilty after doing something with Pepper and he can’t figure out why.

When he drops Pepper off at her house, she tells him she loves him and Tony thinks he sees something in her eyes that he can’t place. It makes his stomach churn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tony u moron chill for a second bruce is a lil overwhelmed
> 
> tbh i strongly feel like tony was a bit too overbearing when he was a teen. like, emotionally. i think maybe if he'd had friends, he would have cared about them so much he might have come off as a little too.......clingy. sometimes. like with bruce he's like "if we just act like nothing happened, we'll be fine!" like tony honey nno o that's not how things work u have to COMMUNICATE but then again he's emotionally constipated too sO
> 
> anyway now that i'm done analyzing my own fanfic, i really hope that u guys liked this one! i love tony so much. also bruce. also pepper. they all deserve the world. pls comment if u liked it!!!!


	9. Grilled Cheeses and Balcony Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce discovers that Tony is a huge mama's boy.

Tony’s mom has absolutely no idea about Bruce coming over, and when Tony tells Bruce this, he panics a little.

“Wha— Tony!” He says upon hearing that Mrs. Stark will be surprised with his company. “That’s— you can’t do that! She’s not even going to remember me.”

“Uh, yeah she will,” Tony says. “Remember I told you that she still brings you up? I wasn’t kidding.”

Bruce heaves a sigh. “Okay, well, you still shouldn’t bring me over without telling your mom first.”

“I bring Pepper over here all the time without telling her,” Tony says with a shrug. “She doesn’t mind, Bruce. She trusts me. Which, she really shouldn’t, but whatever.”

“Doesn’t that make you feel bad?” Bruce asks. 

“What?”

“Lying to your mom about stuff,” Bruce says. “Like your drinking and partying. You like your mom. I would think that lying to her would be kinda… I don’t know, hard.”

Tony is quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed and jaw set. He forces a smile onto his face. “It’s not a big deal. Yeah, I like my mom. But the lying doesn’t bother me. She doesn’t need to know about my social life or what I do by myself.”

“Seriously?” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Because I would think that—”

“Oh, look, we’re home!” Tony beams, pulling into his driveway. “Can’t wait to get your face all scanned!”

He feels bad avoiding the subject, but Tony  _ really _ doesn’t like to think about that particular subject. Yes, it absolutely kills him that he lies to his mom so much. She’d seem him drunk once before and after that, Tony decided he never wanted to see that much pain and sorrow etched onto her face ever again. It was too much for him to bear. He worries that she’s going to realize that Tony’s doing all these self-destructive things and blame herself. It was never her fault and never will be. No, Tony knows where the blame lies. On a good day, he’ll admit that part of the blame falls on himself. On a bad day, it’s all on Howard.

Thankfully, Bruce drops the subject in favor of gawking at Tony’s home. As they pull into the garage, Bruce looks at Tony.

“Tony, I’m pretty sure if I take one step inside, I’ll die,” he says.

“Why would you die?” Tony lets out an amused laugh, cocking his head at Bruce’s words.

“Someone as poor as me isn’t meant to exist in a place like this,” Bruce shakes his head. “The fabric of our universe will literally rip apart at the seams, Tony, I’m telling you—”

“Okay, stop being so dramatic,” Tony snorts. “The fabric of our universe will be fine. There are a lot of places poor people don’t belong and they still exist in those places without the universe falling apart.”

“Oh? And where exactly don’t poor people belong, Mr. I’m So Rich I Have Money Falling Out of My Asshole?” Bruce crosses his arms over his chest.

“Oh, y’know, park benches—” Tony glances over at Bruce to see him glaring daggers at him. Tony grins. “I’m kidding, man. You know I’m not  _ that _ big of a dick. Well, okay, that’s debatable.”

“Mhm,” Bruce says as he steps out of Tony’s car. “I would hope you’re not that mean.”

Tony steps out as well, grabbing his backpack from the backseat and telling Bruce that they  _ have _ to go through the front door for the grand entrance. Bruce rolls his eyes, but follows Tony anyway. At the door, Tony pauses. 

“Okay, a few ground rules you have to follow every time you’re here,” he says. “First of all, no swearing in front of Mom if you can help it. Technically she won’t say anything if you do but I don’t like to swear in front of her because she doesn’t deserve to hear that.”

Bruce nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Second of all, if she offers to cook you something, just let it happen. She loves cooking and she loves feeding people. You’ll probably gain a few pounds now that you’re going to be over here a lot.”

“I guess I could stand to gain weight,” Bruce says.

“Very true. And third of all, let her baby you. She’s probably going to want to help with your… face… injury in some way and you just have to let her. It makes her  _ immensely  _ happy when she can help other people. Humor her, is all I’m saying.”

When Tony is done talking, he notices the shit-eating grin on Bruce’s face. “ _ Why _ are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, it’s just that you are the biggest momma’s boy I’ve ever met,” Bruce says.

Tony shrugs. “Hey, the woman gave birth to me. The least I can do is make her smile.” Tony opens the door, letting Bruce in first before following him.

The second Bruce is inside, he freezes. Tony had kind of expected this to happen. Bruce actually lives in a moderately sized house from what Tony saw, but that doesn’t mean anything when you’re standing in the home of the Stark family. Even the “rich” neighborhoods have nothing on the Stark Mansion. Tony doesn’t know if he’s proud of that or embarrassed by it.

Well, Bruce seems to be impressed, to say the least. His wide-eyed stare and slack-jawed mouth suggest that much. His body seems like it doesn’t know what to do with itself. Tony, though, simply heads over to the bench by the staircase to toss his school bag aside and go to the kitchen to get some food. Bruce isn’t moving from his spot near the door.

“Bruce,” Tony says, smiling in amusement. “I know it’s a lot to take in, big guy, but are you coming?”

Bruce blinks a few times and shakes his head before looking at Tony. “How do you just live here and not cry tears of happiness every day?” He asks.

Tony laughs. “It gets a little old after a while,” he says. 

Bruce scoffs. “Oh, okay. God, you really are a privileged dick.”

“Ah, ah! Mom could be around any corner so watch your language, Glasses.” Tony shoots him a pointed glare.

“I thought I was Freckles?”

“Your glasses and your copious amounts of freckles are two very defining features of you, yes,” Tony says. “So you get both.”

“What am I supposed to call you?” Bruce asks.

“Ruler of The World, Your Highness, Your Grace... Eh, you’ll come up with something.”

The door to the right takes them to the kitchen, Tony immediately heading to the fridge and grabbing a soda. “If you want anything feel free to—”

“Tony, who are you talking to?” A feminine voice cuts into Tony’s words, the kitchen door swinging open and almost hitting Bruce in the side. He turns in surprise to see Maria Stark herself standing there staring at him. “Oh!” She blinks. “I’m sorry, I thought you might be Pepper. You do look familiar, though. Has Tony had you over before?”

“Uh, I— I, um—”

Tony jumps in before Bruce can hurt himself. “Mom, this is Bruce. You remember him, right?”

Maria Stark furrows her brow in thought for a moment and Tony fights back laughter at the terrified expression on Bruce’s face. “Oh,” Mrs. Stark says, “the one from Ohio? That was so long ago, though, so maybe not—”

“Nope, you’re right!” Tony grins, walking over and slinging an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “It’s Bruce from the wonderful world of Skype. He just moved here recently and he’s in one of my classes!”

“Really?” Mrs. Stark says in astonishment. “Well, talk about a twist of fate. I was wondering if we’d ever hear from you again. How’ve you been, sweetie? Obviously not very good judging by the colors on your face.”

Bruce blinks, laughing nervously. “Aha, yeah, it’s nothing really. Just some punks looking for money that I didn’t have.”

“Those darn punks,” Tony says, poking fun at Bruce’s choice of words.

“You’ve been icing it, right?” Mrs. Stark asks. “And taking pain killers?”

“Yeah,” Bruce nods. “Tony’s been on my case about that.”

Mrs. Stark laughs. “I should hope so. He’s smart enough to know what to do when someone’s got a bruise as bad as that.” She asks to see it better and Bruce pushes back his hair to let her have a closer look. Tony can see Bruce’s expression of confusion and he wonders how long it’s been since the kid had people who cared about him in his life. It’s a sad thought.  
  
Mrs. Stark looks just as concerned as Pepper did if not more so. “You’re lucky that they didn’t hit you any harder or you might not have been able to cover that cut up with such a small bandage. Were any of them wearing rings?”

Tony sees Bruce’s eyes flicker with… something. Anger? Fear? He can’t tell.

“No,” Bruce says calmly. “I’ve been punched by a guy wearing rings before and it wasn’t fun, so I’m pretty glad none of them felt the need to accessorize that day.”

Mrs. Stark smiles. “I sense a hint of bitterness in your tone.”

“Bitterness? No. The rings the guy had been wearing were quite nice to look at when they were coming straight for my face.” Bruce smirks.

“Tony, he sounds just like you,” Mrs. Stark says. “Cynical and sarcastic.”

“Ah, come on, Mom,” Tony says, lifting himself up on to the counter to sit on the edge. “You remember being a teenager. The world was against you and everything was an opportunity to be cynical. It still is. Right, Bruce?”

Bruce casts Tony a knowing look. “Right, Tony.”

 

A half an hour later and Mrs. Stark had made both Tony and Bruce grilled cheese sandwiches, asked Bruce about how he’s been liking New York, and what he’d been up to the past six years. And of course, she couldn’t hold a conversation with Bruce without sharing humiliating stories about Tony.

“Oh, how he cried when he saw your Skype disappear—”

“Mom.”

“He was a wreck for at least a month after—”

“Mom, stop.”

“He even asked Mr. Stark if he would get the police to look for you—”

“Mom, seriously!”

Tony ends up with a red face and through his fingers he can see Bruce grinning cockily at him. He doesn’t appreciate their roles being reversed.

“Oh, like you didn’t miss me too,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes.

Bruce says that yes, he did miss him, and he might have cried about it more than once which is nothing to be embarrassed about it. When Maria tells Bruce about the time Tony came home from a classmate’s birthday party early because he’d wet his pants, though, Bruce admits that that’s definitely a little embarrassing. Tony wants to put duct tape over his mom’s mouth.

“Her first time meeting Pepper was worse,” Tony says once his mother has left the kitchen. “Part of why Pepper is an expert in all things Tony is because she knows more embarrassing stories about me than anyone else, thanks to Mom. That was a fun time.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce says, a stupid grin on his face. “I’m sure if my mom were still around she’d tell you all kinds of cringe-worthy stuff I did.”

Tony remembers Bruce telling him when they were ten that his mom had died three years prior. “Do you have a pretty good memory of her or not? Since she died when you were so young?” He knows he might be overstepping a boundary, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah, it’s pretty clear,” Bruce nods. “She was great. She would have really liked you, I think. She hated it when people walked on eggshells around her just like me. And you’re pretty blunt about everything, so she would have appreciated that.”

Tony can see the sadness in the smile Bruce wears. “People tip-toed around her, too?”

“Well, yeah,” Bruce nods. “After all, it wasn’t always just me who got beaten up by Dad. She was the one who tried to, y’know, protect me.”

Tony nods. On a small level, he understands that. No, his father doesn’t beat him, but he’s always been neglectful or verbally abusive. Tony would attempt to show Howard something he’d created when he was younger, and he would receive either silence, or a snappy comment about how Tony never stopped bothering him with his silly inventions. His mother would almost always be there to encourage Tony in ways his father never could.

“That’s good,” Tony says with a smile. “She sounds like she was strong. I’m, uh, sorry you had to lose her so young.” He scratches the back of his neck. As much as Tony likes to pretend that he’s good at talking to people, he still has a lot to learn about offering sincere comfort and compassion. He finds that his voice gets caught in his throat in situations like this.

“I’m just glad she doesn’t have to deal with it anymore,” Bruce says, shrugging. He gestures to his plate, asking Tony where he should put it. Tony takes care of it for him.

“So, while you’re here, wanna come see the only two rooms in this place that matter to me?” Tony asks.

Bruce nods eagerly, letting Tony lead him out of the kitchen and up the enormous flight of stairs. They enter a hallway to the right and Tony opens one of the many doors within that hallway to reveal his bedroom.

“Dude,” Bruce says, gawking at the size of the room. “This is seriously overkill. I mean, a king-sized bed, a huge fucking flat screen TV—”

“With the newest PlayStation model!” Tony butts in.

“ _ And _ a walk-in closet? Is that a fucking balcony, too?” Bruce throws his hands up in astonishment. “I didn’t think people actually lived like this.”

“And now you can, too!” Tony beams. “Well, sort of. Since you’ll be allowed over here whenever you want, it’ll basically be like you live here.”  
  
Bruce is quiet. This unnerves Tony for two reasons: one, Tony expects a response when he’s talking to someone. That’s just how he is. And two, Bruce’s silence only means that Tony has even less of an idea of what he’s thinking. He’s more afraid of the concept of Bruce thinking negative thoughts than he’ll ever admit. But watching him make his way over to the balcony, he decides he’ll let it slide for right now. Tony can’t see his face, but he knows that Bruce’s brow is probably furrowed and there’s a good chance he has a small frown on his face. Growing up without many nice things and suddenly having things that even the wealthiest of people would consider nice shoved in your face is a lot to take in. Especially since Bruce is being told he has almost unlimited access to it now. 

“Tony,” Bruce says as he approaches the double doors leading to the balcony. He opens them, letting in the autumn air. Tony shivers and Bruce walks to the railing. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.” He pauses, then turns around and looks at Tony. His face is exactly how Tony thought it would look; furrowed brow and lips pressed into a frown. “Are… you sure that you want to do this for me? I mean, I won’t be offended if you realize how crazy it is to let me into your house whenever I want after not seeing you for six years.”

Tony sighs, sauntering over to Bruce. He leans on the railing and looks over at him. “I know I’m crazy. But that doesn’t mean that I want you here any less.”

“But Tony—”

“But nothing, Bruce,” Tony says. “I’m not doing this out of pity, if that’s what you think. I’m doing this because I  _ do  _ want you to have a safe place to go, and… not because I missed you or anything.” 

“Your mom would beg to differ,” Bruce snorts.

“Anyway, my point is that I really want to do this,” Tony says. “And no amount of your self-hatred is going to change my mind.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bruce says sarcastically. He turns to really look at Tony. “But really. Thank you. I don’t think I could ever pay you back.”

“You can pay me back by telling me why you disappeared on me for six years,” Tony says, his tone dead serious. “Because I’ve had a lot of people pull some shit on me over the years but that takes the fucking cake.”

He really,  _ really _ hopes that Bruce doesn’t lie about this. He wants to know why Bruce so suddenly left his life and although he has an idea why, he still wants the truth from him. He deserves that much.

Bruce sighs. “My dad didn’t like that we were talking so much,” he says, frowning once again. “Especially since you lived so far away. He didn’t know who you were  _ exactly _ , but he knew you lived somewhere in New York and of course  _ I  _ had no business talking to strangers over the internet. But he could go out and fuck strange women every night!  _ That  _ was okay.” Bruce’s angry expression and the way he spat the words about his father out make Tony feel sick. “Sorry, I just— God, I hate him. He took the computer away from me and would never let me have a phone just because he thought that I had a crush on some kid five-hundred miles away from me.”

Tony’s not sure if he heard that right. “Did you?”

“Did I what?” Bruce blinks.

“Did you have a crush on me?”

“Oh,” Bruce looks down, “no. I’ve never really… liked boys. Like that.” His face has the slightest tint of red to it and Tony has a feeling Bruce is lying to him again.

“You sure about that?” Tony asks, an eyebrow raised. “You don’t seem so sure about that.”

_ Pleasedon’tbestraightpleasedon’tbestraightPLEASEdon’tbestraight— _

“I’m sure about it, Tony,” Bruce says. His face only gets redder and he won’t meet Tony’s eyes. “I like… I like girls. Trust me. I would know.”

_ Would you? _ Tony thinks to himself.  _ Your dad’s convinced you that you are, that’s for sure.  _

“Okay, big guy, whatever you say.” Tony holds up his hands in defeat. He’s not going to get anywhere if he tries to push it out of Bruce right now. That kind of thing takes time. And maybe a really nice pair of lips (which Tony has) to tempt Bruce to give in to his gayness. Bisexualness. Whatever he identifies as.

“I’m sorry that happened, though,” Bruce says softly. “I tried to get the computer back, I really did. But he kept it hidden somewhere and I  _ still  _ can’t find it to this day.” 

“Damn,” Tony says. Suddenly, his brain sprouts an idea. He almost says something about it, but he decides that Bruce deserves a surprise, specifically one that will make his life easier. “Well, maybe one day you’ll find it and we can, y’know, actually talk outside of school without being face to face.” 

“I hope so,” Bruce says. He pushes himself off of the railing and makes his way back into Tony’s room, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make your room so cold.”

Tony closes the balcony doors behind him. “Nah, it’s not that bad. The wind probably blows right through you, though. You’re all skin and bones.”

Bruce gives a short laugh. “So. What’s the other room you wanted to show me?”

Tony lights up, almost having forgotten about his lab. He grabs Bruce’s wrist and pulls him along to the other end of the hallway, excitedly babbling about how if Bruce likes science and math and physics, he’s going to  _ love  _ this room. He doesn’t notice the stupid smile on Bruce’s face the entire time he drags him along.

“Alright, prepare yourself for your own personal Candy Land,” Tony grins, letting go of Bruce’s wrist. Bruce just looks at Tony with an impatient expression. “Behold!” 

Tony throws open the doors, holding his arms out dramatically. Bruce steps in and just about loses his mind.

It’s twice the size of Tony’s room, filled to the brim with tables and machines in progress and papers and everything one could ever think of belonging in a lab. In the corner of the room, there’s a half-circle of keyboards and little blue rectangles projecting at the top of them. A good ten minutes is spent with Bruce going around the room asking Tony what things are and how they work or how long it took him to build them. He makes a lot of comments about Tony’s projects that Tony legitimately writes down because those comments just might actually help him when he works on them next. 

When they arrive at the half-circle of keyboards, Bruce stands in the center of it, ignoring the chair. “What’s all this for?”

“I use it to write my essays, mostly,” Tony shrugs. Bruce looks at him doubtfully. “You think I’m kidding?” He places his hand on the blue rectangle over the main keyboard before extending his fingers, making a blow-up motion. The rectangles do just that— They extend and blow up to show several different open web pages and a couple desktop apps. Microsoft Word rests where the center rectangle had blown up. It’s all floating in the air and Bruce looks like he might pass out. 

“You— You made this?” Bruce gawks. 

“Well, my dad started making it,” Tony says, “but I did most of it. Made it better and stuff. Tony-fied it. I’m still working on the holographic touch-sensitive keyboards, though, so for now it’s just regular wireless ones.”

“You can’t tell me that you only use this to write essays,” Bruce scoffs, running his hand over the keyboards before reaching up and clicking on a link on Google in one of the browsers to test it. It takes him straight to the promised website.

“Well, no,” Tony says, laughing. “I use it to do research and take notes and code data. There’s other shit, too, but… essays mostly. At least lately. I’ve got one in almost every class. Do you want me to set you up a profile on here?”

Bruce  _ definitely  _ looks like he’s going to pass out. “I-I would love that!” He exclaims. “I can’t believe you created all this, Tony. It’s incredible.”

“We could really have a lot of fun in here together,” Tony says with a grin. “Y’know, wreak some havoc, cause a little chaos, shit like that. We’d be quite the team.” 

Bruce nods, watching as Tony swipes his fingers over the floating screens until he’s able to name a new user in the system. Tony smirks as he types in “Freckles” where it says to input a name. Bruce groans.

“Alright,” Tony says. “Let’s go get your face all scanned up. You said you have to be home tonight, right?” The thought of taking Bruce home isn’t a pleasant one, but he knows he has no choice.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, pulling himself away from the tech. “I should honestly probably go home after we’re done with this. I don’t want to risk anything.”

Tony sighs. It’s disappointing to know that Bruce will be leaving so soon. He likes having Bruce around  _ so much _ and all he wants to do is hang out with him and talk to him and just  _ exist _ with him. He’s going to have to get used to Bruce not being able to do that all the time.

“It’s kind of like a fingerprint scanner, but instead of fingerprints, it scans your face,” Tony says as the blue lasers hover over Bruce’s facial features. It beeps and Tony inputs Bruce’s name into the system before exiting the program.

The ten minute drive back to Bruce’s house is a quiet one, Bruce staring out the window and Tony wondering what he’s thinking. He thanks Tony repeatedly for everything, asking him once again if he’s really okay with doing all of this for him. Tony says yes, of course. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to. Bruce shuts the car door with an uncertain expression and leaves Tony asking himself if he said something wrong.

When Tony returns to his own home, he finds his mother sitting in the living room with a book in her hands. Tony bounds up behind her and peeks over her shoulder.

“I see that you’ve got Bruce in the system now,” she says before he can get even one word out.

“Yeah,” he nods, walking over to plop himself down in an armchair. “I just want him to be comfortable here, y’know? We both missed so much and I think we deserve to pick up where we left off.”

Maria closes her book and smiles at Tony. “You know that I want you to be happy, Tony,” she says. “But you might want to slow it down a little with him.”

Tony furrows his brow, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you said that you only reunited with him, oh, not even a week ago. You two have been absent from each other’s lives for six years, sweetie. People change a  _ lot _ in that time, especially from twelve to eighteen. And he seemed a bit more… introverted than you are. He might need some time to adjust to your renewed friendship, okay?” Maria gives Tony a sympathetic look. Tony frowns.

“No, he’s fine,” Tony shakes his head. “He seems pretty well adjusted already, so… I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

“All I’m saying is to make sure you’re not overwhelming him,” Maria says.

Tony sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna go… do some homework.”

As Tony makes his way up to his lab, he thinks about his mother’s words. Could she be right? Is he overwhelming Bruce? He would hope that Bruce would tell him if he was. But Bruce is so anxious all the time, he might not be able to summon the courage to tell Tony. How could this be a bad thing, though? Being reunited with your old best friend and then having that best friend say that you’re welcome in his house whenever you want would be a fucking blessing, Tony thinks. But what does he know?

He knows that he’s Tony Stark, and people are always,  _ always _ dying to be this close to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW HEY GUYS !! i'm SO sorry this took forever to update. i've been rly busy lately, watching the x-files and hating myself. i've been in the middle of a bipolar depressive episode for a while, so it's been super hard for me to do productive things. i'm rly sorry it took so long!! to make up for it, i give u all a decently long chapter of gay and sad. y'all do with that what you will and let me know what u thought in the comments.


	10. watches and fuck-ups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony doesn't know how to not be a clingy piece of shit.

It’s at the end of the week that Tony walks into his and Pepper’s fourth hour to see Bruce sitting near the back of the class talking to Pepper. 

It surprises him, to say the least. He stops in his tracks and blinks a few times, wondering what the hell the kid was doing in here. Pepper seems to sense his presence and she turns around, waving him over with a bright smile on her face.

“Guess who got moved into our speech class?” She says. 

Tony grins, confused but definitely okay with this. Then it dawns on him. “Oh, is this what your counselor wanted to see you about?”

Bruce nods. “Yeah, my class was too full and I also told her that the teacher gave me really bad anxiety so she moved me in here. I guess this teacher is actually okay.”

“Oh, if you had Miss Willhaft, you better be glad you got moved,” Pepper says. “She’s  _ awful _ . I haven’t heard one student here ever say that they like her.”

“I knew I wasn’t gonna like her my first day in her class,” Bruce says with a chuckle. “I  _ am _ glad I got moved, and to your class no less!”

“Honey, you’re in for the time of your life,” Pepper says. “Tony here is a master at giving speeches.”

Tony beams proudly. “Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m a  _ master _ — Okay, yes I would, that was a lie.” 

Bruce and Pepper laugh, and Tony briefly wonders how Bruce will do in a speech class. He knows he’s not keen on talking to people he doesn’t know and his general anxiety can’t be good for him in this kind of class. Maybe Tony can help him  _ and  _ Pepper with their speeches! He smiles at the idea. But then again, Bruce could be really good for all he knows.

He totally isn’t.

It physically pains Tony to watch Bruce attempt to get through an impromptu speech. He freezes in front of the class and won’t even open his mouth for a good twenty seconds. Tony just looks at him desperately, trying to encourage him to speak about something,  _ anything _ pertaining to the guidelines the teacher had given them. Bruce manages to stutter out some nonsense that makes Tony cringe from secondhand embarrassment and he decides that he’s  _ definitely  _ going to need to have some study sessions with Bruce. 

When Bruce comes back to his desk, his face is tomato red and he immediately buries his head in his arms to hide it. Tony can see his shoulders shaking. He makes eye contact with Pepper and he knows that they both feel horrible for him. Luckily, though, the rest of the class couldn’t give two shits about it and they move right on. That doesn’t stop Bruce from keeping his head down the rest of the class. Tony reaches back and gives him a reassuring pat on the back. 

“That could have gone worse,” Tony says once class is over. Bruce is gathering his things with shaky hands. “I mean, you could have passed out.”

“I wish I would have passed out,” Bruce mutters. “It would have meant I didn’t have to give that miserable excuse for a speech. God, I already hate this class.”

“It was miserable, yes, but that’s okay,” Tony says. “You’ll get better. I mean, me and Pepper can help you.”

“Yeah!” Pepper beams. “Tony’s helped me a lot, Bruce. Perks of dating someone whose favorite hobby is talking.”

“ _ Speaking  _ of talking,” Tony says with a grin. “Did you know that—”

“That was a pun, wasn’t it?” Pepper says. “That better not have been a pun.” 

“It was definitely a pun, and now I’m going to keep my mouth shut.” Tony presses his lips together.

“Thank God.”

 

The next week passes quickly for Tony. He hates himself for wanting time to go back to moving slowly again, but he’s actually  _ happy _ now! Genuinely, ridiculously happy. He’s got his best friend and his girlfriend and they’ve all got one class together, and all Tony can think of that would make this better is if his other best friend Rhodey were here. He hasn’t seen much of Rhodey in a while since he moved away. Tony thinks that’s funny— how Rhodey moved away only for Bruce to move here. It’s as if Tony’s not allowed to have two best friends at once. One cannot coexist with the other, he supposes. Still, he knows that Rhodes would like Bruce. They’d get along just fine. They’re both more of the quiet type.

The only thing that’s bothering Tony, however, is Bruce’s lack of presence in Tony’s home. He hasn’t shown up once of his own accord or even asked Tony if he could come over. Tony’s baffled by this, to say the least. He would have thought that Bruce would attempt to get away from his house at least once within the week. Tony knows that if he lived in that kind of environment, he definitely would. 

It’s at the end of that week that Tony makes a small mistake and learns why Bruce hasn’t come over.

Tony is convinced that Bruce’s surprise is going to make him so goddamn happy and Tony can’t wait to see the look on his face. The wrist watch with a built-in holographic messaging system is just what they need to be able to communicate with each other outside of school. He’d stayed up night after night putting it together and making it relatively simple for Bruce to use. Not that he doesn’t think Bruce can figure it out, just that he knows that he can go overboard when making these kinds of things. He can’t wait to give it to him after school.

He tells Pepper that he needs to stay after and talk to Bruce for a while after school, so she kisses him goodbye and tells him to text her later. Bruce looks more than a little confused about what Tony’s up to.

“Okay, so,” Tony says to Bruce, a giant grin on his face. “I’ve been putting together this surprise for you since you first came over. You said that you had no idea where your computer is and your dad won’t let you have a phone, so!” Tony whips the watch out of his pocket and shows it to Bruce, holding it up dramatically. 

Bruce furrows his brow. “A watch?”

“Not just any watch,” Tony says. “You can use it to talk to me. It’s kind of a prototype, so all it can really do is send texts to my watch and tell you what the time and the date is and what the weather’s going to be like. No picture messages or video chatting. Yet. But I perfected the holographic keyboard, finally!” He beams, showing Bruce that with the touch of a button, a small, floating blue keyboard appears in the air above the watch. “Cool, right?”

Bruce is quiet. His lack of response and the obviously hesitant look on his face makes Tony feel not so good. He lowers the watch. “What’s wrong, big guy?”

Bruce chews on his lip. “It’s just— Tony, this is great and all, really. I appreciate this a lot. But I don’t want to take it. Not right now.”

Tony cocks his head. He doesn’t understand. What did he do wrong? “How come?”

A sigh escapes Bruce’s lips. “Because it’s too much. There’s too much you’re throwing at me, Tony. I- I want to be able to accept all of this, but I wasn’t kidding when I said that we’re different people now.”

“But we’re not—”

“Yes, we are!” Bruce says, his eyebrows raised. “We were  _ twelve  _ when we last saw each other! It would be a little different if we were twenty-five and then met again at thirty-one. But we were literally kids when we first met. Now we’re adults, and we don’t know how our personalities have changed. I know that you’re a lot more sarcastic than you used to be, and you know that I’m a lot more suicidal than I used to be.” The way his voice cracks when he says that makes Tony’s chest hurt. “That’s it. We can’t go right back to being best friends, okay?”

Tony swallows. He didn’t think he was being that overbearing, and hearing it from Bruce is making him feel sick. “Yes, we can, Bruce—”

Bruce shakes his head. “Stop it. You’re not getting what I’m saying. We have to relearn who we are, Tony. We have to take this slowly and we have to recognize that there’s a lot about each other we’ve missed in the last six years. I’m not comfortable with randomly coming over to your house whenever I feel like it. I’ve never known anything different than being trapped at my house, y’know? It’s going to take some getting used to.”

Tony has a hard time accepting when he’s wrong. Ever since he met Pepper, it’s been a bit easier, but there’s still the egomaniac inside of him that always wants to be right. At the moment, Bruce is squashing it. “Okay,” he says with a small voice. He blinks. No, he’s not going to let this hurt him. He can wallow in self-pity at home. “Yeah, okay,” he says in a much more…  _ normal _ voice. “That’s not a big deal. I’ll lay off. No problem.”

Bruce smiles and Tony can see the pity in it.

“Don’t do that,” Tony says. “Don’t look at me like you feel bad for doing this to me. I’m not upset over it.”

The pitiful expression remains on Bruce’s face for a moment before it’s replaced with one of genuine peace. “I still want to come over so you can help me with speech class,” he says.

Tony feels a pang of hope. “You do? I thought you wanted to, uh, ‘take things slow,’ though.”

“Well, yeah,” Bruce nods. “But that includes spending time with each other and talking about ourselves, y’know? I know that you might be completely comfortable with me already, but I’m still working on getting to that level of comfort. So I’ll come over this weekend, we’ll work on speech stuff, and we can watch a movie and just. I dunno. Talk. Okay?”

Tony thinks for a moment about Bruce’s proposal. It makes sense, he thinks. Just because  _ he’s  _ already gotten comfortable with Bruce doesn’t mean it goes both ways. Sure, that sucks, but Tony’s willing to work for it. He just wants Bruce to be happy and content and a part of his life. 

“Sure thing,” Tony says, clicking his tongue. “I’ll, uh, keep the watch. For now.”

“For now.” Bruce nods.

It’s good enough for Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ay long time no update
> 
> anyway thanks for all y'all who are sticking with me it means a lot!! tony is clingy and so am i and it hurt me a lot to write this scene bc like. i feel u tony.
> 
> pls comment!! i literally live for comments!!


	11. a dead butler and sleepless nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony's mother only wants him to be happy and Tony wonders if that's possible.

Bruce doesn’t spend the night that weekend. Tony asks him if they can push it to the next weekend because he’s got something going on, and by that he means that he wants to distract himself as best as he can from thinking about how badly he fucked up. Yes, he and Bruce talked it out, but Tony can’t stop thinking about how clingy Bruce must think he’s been being. It’s not common for Tony to worry about something he’s done for so long and so intensely that he feels like he can’t breathe (is this what a prolonged anxiety attack feels like?) and he just wants it to stop. Something similar happened with Pepper once, last year. It was during a time when he was relatively vulnerable— right before he tried to drink himself to death, actually. He was smoking pot constantly and didn’t know when enough was enough and Pepper didn’t like it. She’d told him that his smoking around her or right before seeing her made her uncomfortable and Tony hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it until after he got out of the hospital. That’s not to say that that was the reason he drank himself right into the E.R., just simply one of the many things weighing on his shoulders at the time. Sometimes he drifts back to the mindset he used to be in and he feels like his chest is being pushed down on and his breathing picks up. Thinking about it now, Tony realizes that he might have had a few panic attacks of his own in the past.

His methods of distraction include working on projects in his lab and forgetting to eat, playing video games until he can feel his eyeballs melting out of his skull, or in this case, watching a movie with his mom on the couch while she reads up on the engineering behind the A.I. he’s been working on.

“You said that you want to name it… Jarvis?” She asks Tony as he plays around with the food on his plate. He loves his mom’s cooking, really. He just can’t bring himself to eat anything. Days without eating anything other than a granola bar in the morning will do that to you. 

Tony nods. “Yeah.” He turns the volume down in the TV. “But it’s an acronym, Mom. Y’know, ‘cause I’m really good at coming up with those.”

“Oh, right,” Maria says, her lips quirking up into a smile. “And what does it stand for again?”

“Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System,” Tony says. He shrugs. “Which, I mean, it is. So it’s not inaccurate.”

“Well, I wish the real Jarvis were still around to hear about this,” Maria sighs. “He always did love hearing about your projects.”

“Yeah, he was the only one who did,” Tony says, scoffing. “I mean, you did too. But come on. We both know that Jarvis went above and beyond what his job description entailed. There was probably nothing that said ‘bond with the troubled and rebellious son of the household even if he tries to use you in one of his experiments’ in it.”

Maria laughs. “Oh, I know. He was such a nice man to have around. If he was still here, he would love what you’re doing.”

Tony smiles tiredly at his mom, running a hand through his hair. “I know. That’s why I’m doing it. Maybe then  _ someone  _ will be happy with something I’ve done. Even if he’s dead.”

Maria is quiet for a moment, closing her book and looking at Tony. She always does that when she wants to have a serious discussion with him. She puts whatever she’s doing away almost completely before speaking to him. “You haven’t been sleeping again,” she says, her brow furrowed in concern.

Tony fights back a yawn at the mention of sleep. “Sure I have. Sleep is easy. Don’t know why I wouldn’t be able to do it. Just close your eyes and boom! You’re there.” God, if only it were that easy. All Tony sees when he closes his eyes is the look of discomfort in Bruce’s eyes and occasionally he’s graced with the images of the hospital room. He doesn’t know why he does this to himself.

“Tony,” Maria says in a sympathetic voice. She reaches over and puts a hand on Tony’s cheek, brushing her thumb under his eye. “The bags under your eyes have bags. And they’re bloodshot. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Tony hesitates for a moment, his body relaxing at his mom’s touch. He doesn’t want her to worry about him. He’ll be over this eventually. He knows it’s stupid. “Okay, so I’m not sleeping. Big deal. It hasn’t killed me yet, so.”

“Well, I’d like for you to  _ not  _ find out how long you can stay awake until you die,” Maria says. She brushes her thumb along Tony’s cheekbone again and Tony leans his head into the touch. 

“Nah.” Tony shakes his head. “I’m an idiot, but I’m an idiot who needs sleep. Eventually.”

Maria sighs and Tony can tell she’s thinking “What am I going to do with you?” He wonders the same thing about himself. “When are things ever going to get easy for you?” 

Tony smirks. “Nothing is ever easy with me, Mom. You know that.”

Maria nods. “I do,” she says. “It’s what makes you so interesting.”

Tony wishes that things were easy for him. Maybe then things would be easier for his mother and everyone else around him. He sometimes wonders how he can love himself so much yet hate himself at the exact same time. This is why  _ others _ hate  _ him _ . He probably gives them whiplash. 

He doesn’t sleep for the third night in a row that night. His stomach hurts because it’s empty and he has to force himself to eat a bowl of cereal in the morning even though it tastes so disgusting he just wants to throw it back up. His appetite has been non-existent since Friday. Driving to school that morning is quite the task, considering his vision is blurring and his head hurts like hell. He’s just tired. He hopes the coffee he buys on the way helps at least a little bit.

The second that Pepper sees him when he walks into school and meets her in their usual spot by the cafeteria, she’s got her hands on either side of his face and a furrowed brow of concern.

“I’m fine!” He tells her in a chipper tone. “I was just up for a while working on Jarvis. The robot, not the butler.”

“I kind of figured,” Pepper chuckles. “Maybe you should have stayed home today. You know, to catch up on sleep? I could have brought you the homework.”

Tony shrugs. “Nah, I’ll be okay. Who needs sleep, right? Sleep is for the weak.”

“At this point, you might need sleep for the  _ week,”  _ Pepper says, pushing Tony’s hair away from his face. He smiles in amusement, his eyes crinkling.

“So you’re allowed to make jokes but I’m not?” He asks. Pepper simply brings his head down to her chest, setting her chin on top of it and rubbing his back. 

“Just promise me you’ll try to sleep tonight?” She says. Tony sighs.

“I promise.” He owes her that much, he thinks. She’s done so much for him in the time they’ve been dating. “You seen Bruce walking the halls today?”

“Not yet,” Pepper says with a shake of her head. “You two were supposed to hang out this weekend, weren’t you? What happened with that?”

Tony lifts his head up. “Ah, I got distracted by work and I told him that we should push it to next weekend.” He doesn’t mention how Bruce doesn’t have a phone. “Shall I walk you to class, Miss Potts?”

Pepper smiles. “You shall.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soRRY AGAIN FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER I'LL POST ANOTHER ONE EITHER TOMORROW NIGHT OR THE FOLLOWING NIGHT THAT'S A LOOOOOOT LONGER TO MAKE UP FOR IT I PROMISE!!!!


	12. speeches and sour patch kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce gives a speech to a holographic audience and both he and Tony learn a little more about each other with Sour Patch Kids.

Pepper texts Tony to tell him during her gym class that Bruce is there. She also tells him that Bruce isn’t feeling good and asked to sit out, and she faked ill as well so he would have some company on the bench. Tony smiles at that. When he asks her what they’re talking about, she says that they’re discussing the best ways to make shawarma and Tony snorts in the middle of class. He’d told Pepper not long ago that he wanted to try shawarma sometime soon and she’d said that her mom makes it for dinner sometimes. Apparently Bruce likes to read recipes on how to cook so that he’ll be able to feed himself when he’s out of his dad’s house. Something about that is really attractive to Tony.

He wonders why Bruce is sitting out in gym class until he sees him in their third period speech class, his head on his desk and arms around his stomach. Pepper is rubbing his back and he briefly thinks to himself that Bruce is lucky Pepper likes him. 

“Hey, Freckles,” Tony says as he takes his seat in front of Bruce. “What’s wrong? Stomach ache? Weird cramps? Alien laying eggs in your intestines?” 

Bruce lets out a pained laugh. “The third one, probably.” He looks up at Tony through his curls under his hood. “I can hardly stand up straight. It just feels sore.” 

Tony catches on quickly, eyes widening the slightest bit as he nods. “Too many crunches?”

“You bet,” Bruce says with a cringe. “Probably shouldn’t have done so many after not doing any kind of exercise for months. Bad idea.”

Tony gives a slow nod, pressing his lips together in a tight line. Pepper says something about going home and putting a heating pad on his stomach if he has one. Tony thinks about what Bruce could have possibly done to warrant his dad hitting Bruce in the gut so hard that he feels like he can’t stand up straight. Absolutely nothing, Tony thinks. Nothing warrants that kind of abuse. Especially not something Bruce could have done.

The bell rings and the teacher pulls out her clipboard of names to call out attendance. Tony watches as she points at Bruce and asks, “You. You’re Bruce Banner, right?”

He nods.

“Could you please take off your hood? You know the rules.” 

Bruce sighs, reaching up and pushing his hood back to reveal his hair.

His newly cut hair.

Tony and Pepper both beam, and Pepper is the first one to reach up and run her fingers through the mop of curls at the top. The sides and the back have been shaved off so there’s only fuzz there and Tony thinks it’s a much better look on him than his old haircut. Of course, he’s not completely bald on the sides. There’s still about half an inch of hair there. Tony wants to touch it but he refrains himself, instead opting to grin brightly at him in approval.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were planning on going punk rock? I’ve got plenty of eyeliner at home that I have yet to put to good use.” He pokes Bruce’s arm and Bruce rolls his eyes. 

“You wear eyeliner almost every day, Tony,” Pepper says. Bruce nods in agreement.

“Yes, but it has so much more potential!” Tony says. “Come on, imagine Bruce with a leather jacket and some eyeliner. Maybe dye his hair black.”

“If we did that, he’d be you,” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Tony winks. “Nothin’ better than being me.”

“I beg to differ.”

Tony spends the rest of that class wondering if that’s why Bruce’s dad went all MMA fighter on him. After all, undercuts are the traditional Queer Kid Haircut ™ and his dad doesn’t seem to like the idea of Bruce being anything other than straight from what Tony can tell. Tony had an undercut for a while in his junior year before deciding that he was too lazy to keep shaving it. He’s glad that he doesn’t have one now or else he and Bruce would be matching and, well, that would just be awkward. 

Sixth period rolls around and Tony finally manages to get Bruce’s seat changed so that he’s sat next to Pepper and him. He tells himself that it’s just like being nice to the new kid, whom he definitely doesn’t know. He just wants to make him feel comfortable and accepted. Pepper is sat between Bruce and Tony anyway, so that takes some of the pressure off. Bruce and Pepper get along swimmingly and Tony couldn’t be happier about that.

But God, it’s hard for Tony to pretend that he isn’t balls-deep comfortable with Bruce already. The next week proves that much. He wants to ruffle Bruce’s hair constantly and he wants to hug him and he wants to just give him that damn watch already so they can talk outside of school! He’s about ready to resort to writing paper letters to Bruce and dropping them off outside his house. What does he need to do, tie a string between two cups and give Bruce one of the cups? Send a paper airplane with a note on it over to his house? Tony doesn’t think his aim is that good and he highly doubts that that method of communication would work out very well. 

On Friday, though, Bruce asks if he can spend the night.

Huh. Tony hadn’t been expecting that.

“You sure you wanna stay overnight?” Tony asks in the car on the way home. “Because I know you said that we need to take this slow, so I mean. I can always take you home after dinner and then make like a galaxy and give you some space.” 

Bruce laughs. “No, I want to. It’ll be nice to be away from my house again. Just… separate beds this time. Okay?”

Tony nods. “Can do, Glasses. Separate beds it is. Well, you’ll probably get my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa in my room.”

“No, you can have your bed—”

“Trust me, Bruce,” Tony says. “I sleep on that sofa more than I sleep in my own bed. And I don’t sleep very much as it is.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Bruce says with a wince. “Even with my glasses off I can tell that you haven’t slept in a while.”

“Hey, I slept Monday night, Tuesday night, and… part of Wednesday night,” Tony protests. “I think that’s pretty good, don’t you?”

“Not really, Tony,” Bruce says. 

“Well, you’ve got no room to talk,” Tony says with a pointed glance. “You  _ constantly  _ look like you haven’t slept in at least seventy-two hours. Not saying that I don’t, just that you shouldn’t be such a hypocrite. I bet the last time you actually slept soundly was at the motel.”

Bruce crosses his arms. “Maybe.”

“Well, you’ll get the best sleep of your life tonight in my bed,” Tony says with a smirk. “Nothin’s comfier. Not even my own body. Ask Pepper.”

Tony’s really,  _ really  _ hoping that tonight goes okay. He’s worrying too much and he knows it. He’ll just have a couple drinks once they get in and he’ll be fine. He’s got that flask hidden in his room with whiskey still in it. A few swigs of that and he should be calm enough to talk to Bruce how he wants to without things getting too overwhelming for Bruce. God, Tony didn’t think he would have to work this hard to be best friends with someone he’s already been best friends with.

The first couple hours are Tony helping Bruce with an upcoming speech they have to do. The guidelines are simple: Print out a copy of a famous speech someone has given and learn it well. Be able to read it to the class without looking down at it as much as possible, and make eye contact with several students. This is an easy thing to do because Bruce gets to fuck around with Tony’s high-tech computer station looking for a famous speech to give while Tony works off to the side on the holographic keyboards. When Bruce finds a speech, he asks Tony to tell him what he thinks.

“Laverne Cox?” Tony peers over Bruce’s shoulder. “What’s the speech about?”

Bruce sits back in his chair, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t really know where you stand on transgender issues? But… it’s all about that. Because, y’know, she’s a transgender woman. And I just believe that trans people deserve to have their experiences talked about if only to make people realize that they’re people too.” He pauses. “And, I dunno, I like her because she talks about how we should educate ourselves on this kind of thing. Like, I’ve never really felt any attachment to gender and I didn’t even know that was a thing before I knew who she was.  _ And  _ I think that trans people of color don’t get enough recognition. Anyway, do you think it’s good enough? It’s gotta be a minute long, I think.”

Tony makes a mental note to ask Bruce about his whole ‘not feeling any attachment to gender’ thing later. Maybe when they’re closer. “Yeah, it seems like a good speech. And just for the record, I’m actually a massive liberal when it comes to that stuff. I just don’t hear a whole lot about it.”

Bruce shrugs, opening up Microsoft Word to copy and paste his favorite part of the speech into a document before printing it. Tony puts his holographic keyboard project on hold so that Bruce can read it out loud to him. He does this a couple times, then Tony goes back to work so Bruce can read it to himself in a successful attempt at memorizing most of it. When he thinks he’s ready, he asks Tony to listen to him again. Even when it’s just Tony, Bruce’s face still turns a delicious shade of pink upon making eye contact with him while reciting the speech to him. Tony has to fight back a smile.

An hour has passed by the time Bruce decides he knows the speech well enough to give it to at least Tony without having to look down at the paper more than a few times. He asks Tony how he’s going to be able to give it to a classroom full of people, though. Tony thinks for a moment before  _ ding!  _ The lightbulb over his head turns on and Tony reaches for a remote on the table, clicking a button before heading over to the windows and shutting the blinds. He looks up a generic picture of a high school classroom audience and in less than thirty seconds he’s got a holographic image of the picture coming from the projector on his ceiling. He turns to Bruce and gestures towards the projection.

“Stand in front of that and give your speech,” Tony says. 

Bruce looks like he’s going to be sick and Tony isn’t surprised. He knows that this is going to take a while. Even if Bruce gets over his anxiety about this particular speech completely, the second he’s given an impromptu or they’re assigned another project, his anxiety will return full-force. Tony’s got his work cut out for him for once. 

“Uh,” Bruce says, swallowing, “I don’t know, Tony. That seems a little, um—”

“Scary?”

“Uh-huh,” Bruce nods. 

“Well, if you can face your dad every day without fail, you can face a classroom full of morons,” Tony says. He grins. “Come on, big guy. You got this. It’s nothing compared to what you face every day.”

Bruce sighs. “Okay. It won’t be perfect the first time around, obviously, so no laughing—”

“Really, Bruce?” Tony raises an eyebrow in offense. “You think I’d laugh at you for being afraid?”

“I don’t know, Tony, we haven’t seen each other in six years,” Bruce says with a playful smile on his face. 

Tony looks at him in disbelief. “You asshole,” he says, shaking his head. “You just like to piss me off, don’t you?”

“It’s slowly becoming a hobby of mine.” Bruce stands, holding his speech tightly in his hands. Tony hopes that Bruce can still read it despite all the crinkles. “Alright, I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

Tony sits atop the table to watch Bruce deliver the speech, his eyes narrowed in focus and lips pursed. Bruce’s voice is shaky and his form is trembling with anxiety and Tony can see the paper shaking almost violently in his hands. He keeps freezing in the middle of his sentences, having to look back down at the paper to remember what he’s supposed to say. He repeatedly looks over at Tony, too, as if begging him to come and save him. Tony just gives him a reassuring look each time. 

When the first run-through of the speech is over, Tony claps. “Shakier than a chihuahua, but still pretty good for your first time. Wanna try some jack and see if it’ll help you calm down?” Tony holds out his flask to him with a teasing grin and Bruce huffs out an irritated sigh. 

“Alcohol may be your solution to everything, but it’s not mine,” Bruce says, running a hand through his curls. This kills Tony on the spot. All he wants to do is push his fingers through those beautiful brown curly strands. “And I’d really appreciate it if you put that away for the night. I don’t feel too great knowing that you apparently have to get drunk in order to hang out with me.”

Tony feels like he just got kicked in the chest. “First of all,” he says, walking over to a desk and shoving the flask in one of the drawers, “I’m not drunk. Second of all, I don’t have to be drunk in order to hang out with you. I have to be drunk in order to write decent poetry, but not to hang out with you.” He picks up a meter stick leaning against the wall and points it at Bruce. “Now. Let’s give that another go! Need anything before you start? Water? Weed? Me to shut up?”

“Yes, please,” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ah, for you to shut up, I mean. And maybe water. No weed.” He pauses. “For right now, at least.”

Tony jabs the meter stick at him. “I’m holding you to that,” he says. “Now, go! Begin! Start!” 

Bruce unclenches his hands for a moment, relaxing them around the paper and facing the fake audience again. As he delivers the speech with the same unsteadiness he did before, Tony slowly walks around him, watching him with a furrowed brow. His hands aren’t shaking as badly as they were the first time, but they’re still pretty unsteady. He makes it behind Bruce and leans against the wall for a moment, listening to Bruce fumble and repeatedly search for his place in the speech as he loses it again and again. Tony walks up behind him, peering over his shoulder before setting a hand on Bruce’s wrist. Bruce freezes.

“Just imagine that they’re all me and Pepper,” Tony says quietly. “You did just fine giving me the speech, and I know you’re already pretty comfortable with Pep, so just pretend that everyone is me and her. Breathe, Bruce. No one actually cares what you’re saying. No one in this high school is actually going to beat you up for reading a speech about trans rights. And if they do, I’ll kick their asses. So just relax.” It takes every ounce of his self control not to ghost his lips over Bruce’s ear. “It’s okay if your hands shake right now. You’ll be standing at a podium in the classroom so your hands won’t even be visible then. The thing you want to focus on is your voice and your eye contact. You think that people need to know about trans rights? You think people need to hear the stories of transgender people of color? Tell them. No one’s going to care if they see that you’re afraid because they’ll assume that means you’re ashamed on some level. So make them care.”

Bruce takes a deep breathe, and Tony lets go of his wrist, stepping back and away from him. 

It takes a few more times of Bruce giving the speech for him to be able to level out his voice enough for it to sound like he’s actually confident in what he’s talking about. It takes even more trials for him to be able to make decent eye contact with the fake audience without stumbling over his words. Eventually, though, Bruce is almost gliding through the speech. It makes Tony smile, seeing how well Bruce is doing. He knows that he’ll probably freeze up again on Monday, but hopefully by looking at Tony he’ll remember what he said and he’ll do just fine. 

When Bruce has decided that he’s had enough of practicing for the speech, he asks Tony if they can go make popcorn and watch a movie or play some video games. Tony tells Bruce that they can do whatever he wants to do. 

While they’re in the kitchen making popcorn, Tony rifles around the cabinets looking for something else that sounds even the least bit appealing. Upon looking in the candy cabinet, he sees a bag of Sour Patch Kids. He gets an idea. 

“Hey, Bruce,” he says. “You know how you said we needed to get to know each other better?” He asks. “Well, I’ve got an idea of how we could start with that.” He pulls out the bag of candy. “Do you like Sour Patch Kids?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah,” he says. “Please tell me we’re not just going to asking each other pointless questions like that.”

“Of course not,” Tony says. The microwave beeps and Tony goes to pull the bag out and dump it in a bowl. “All will be explained in my fortress of solitude. Come on.” He gestures for Bruce to follow him, and soon they’re both sitting cross legged on the sofa in Tony’s room. The bowl of popcorn rests on the floor and the pack of candy is sat between them. Tony rips it open.

“Okay, take anywhere from one to ten pieces without looking at what colors you’re getting,” he says. 

Bruce gives Tony a baffled expression before closing his eyes and reaching into the bag. While he does this, Tony pulls up the message screen on his watch (the one that’s  _ supposed  _ to link with Bruce’s) but instead of sending a message, he types in a color key. “Okay,” he says, gesturing to the screen once he’s done typing and has his own candy. Bruce has six pieces, Tony has seven. “So. Here’s what happens. You can’t eat any of the candy until you answer the question the color corresponds to, got it? Red means you tell me one of your favorite hobbies, green is your favorite place on earth, blue is a favorite memory, yellow is your dream job or whatever, and orange is a wildcard. You tell me anything about yourself. Same goes for me. If you forget what a certain color means, I’ve got it right here.” He gestures to the holographic color key. “Sound good, Freckles?”

Bruce nods, smiling in amusement. “This is really dorky, I hope you know.” 

“I’m well aware of just how dorky this is, Banner,” Tony says. “Unlike you, I like to flaunt my less-cool qualities. Now. Pick a color for me to eat first.”

Bruce purses his lips. Tony has two reds, two oranges, one blue, one yellow, and one green. He points to the green one. Tony scowls. “I hate the green ones. But, hm… favorite place? Probably my lab. I spend more time in there than anywhere else and it’s where I feel the safest, y’know? I, heh, used to hide in there when good ol’ Dad was yelling at my mom for misplacing something she’d never even touched in the first place.” He cringes at the memory before popping the green Sour Patch Kid into his mouth, lips pursing at the flavor.

“If I had a lab like that, it’d probably be my favorite place too,” Bruce says, nodding. 

“Alright, your turn.” Tony rubs his hands together, examining Bruce’s candy. Two blues, and one of all the other colors. “Let’s do yellow.”

“Dream job?” Bruce taps his chin in thought. “I want to be a scientist. Specifically study radiation and all that.”

Tony smiles. “I kinda figured you’d be into that shit. You’d be great at it. You’ve got the top grade in our physics class already and you’ve only been here for two weeks. I’d have the top score if I actually, y’know, did my work. But I can’t be bothered most of the time.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, his natural reaction to Tony ever saying anything even remotely egotistical. “Gee, thanks. Nice to know that the only reason I’m top of the class is because the other genius in the room doesn’t want to do his work.” He looks at Tony with an irritated smile and Tony just smirks in return.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He’s honestly kidding. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce was actually better than him in physics. His ego, however, tells him otherwise, because if he’s not a genius then what is he? “Okay, you go.”

“One of the reds,” Bruce says.

“Favorite hobbies! Wow, y’know, that is a toughy.” Tony sets his chin in his hand, pretending to look deep in thought. “Oh, I know! _ Talking _ .” 

“Tony, seriously!” Bruce laughs. 

“What, you think I’m joking?” Tony asks. “Because I’m not. But you already knew that, so I’m gonna go with tinkering. Like, I love actually building stuff, but one of my favorite things to do is to work on something I’ve already made. Make it better and all that jazz.”

“Well, you  _ are _ Tony Stark,” Bruce says. “It makes sense that you’d just keep making things better.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Tony narrows his eyes. 

Bruce holds up his hands in defense. “Not at all. Now eat your candy and ask me something.”

Tony leans back and happily eats the red (easily his favorite flavor) Sour Patch Kid before pointing at one of Bruce’s. “Blue.”

Bruce thinks for a moment, running a hand through his hair and chewing on the inside of his cheek. He smiles. “My favorite memory… Okay, so, this one time me and my mom wanted to get away from my dad for the day. So we packed our swimsuits and we went to the pool for a while. I didn’t really know how to swim all that well so I stayed in the shallow end, but I still had a lot of fun. We went to the zoo after and she took a bunch of pictures of me with the animals on her phone. At the end of the day we realized we never put sunscreen on and we had the worst sunburns  _ ever _ by the time we got home. We were putting aloe on ourselves for an hour.” He chuckles. “It’s one of the last really happy memories I have of her, y’know? I mean, there  _ are _ others, but that’s one of the last ones I can remember where she was genuinely happy.”

Tony finds himself just staring at Bruce with a small smile stuck on his face, his head tilted a bit. The second Bruce started talking about his mom, he relaxed. His face softened and he looked years younger and so very, very innocent. Bruce has been subjected to years of terror and fear and abuse and Tony can see it in his face, even when he’s smiling and laughing. But watching him talk about his mother, all of that goes away. He looks at peace. Tony hopes that one day Bruce can always look like that. He deserves it.

When he realizes he’s been silently staring at Bruce for what was probably too long, he blinks. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, nodding. “Those are important, Freckles. Hold on to shit like that.”

Bruce scratches the back of his neck and when he looks back up at Tony, the same look of exhaustion is back on his face. It makes Tony’s throat constrict. “Yeah. You’re turn, though. Blue.”

“Ahh, I see how it is,” Tony waggles his finger at Bruce. “Okay. I think I have one. When I first met Pepper, actually. We met in tenth grade, right? But we literally met because I tried to date one of her best friends, Natasha. Gorgeous redhead. No, I don’t have a type. Anyway, I tried to get Natasha to go to the movies with me, but she didn’t want anything to do with me. I think I asked her twice? And she went and told Pepper that some guy was trying to get her to go out with him and wouldn’t leave her alone. I think that was part of her plan, though. She knew Pepper would be able to handle me. So Pepper comes up to me the next day and says to me, ‘Hey, pretty boy, don’t you get that Natasha doesn’t want to go out with you?’ And I looked at her and said, ‘Oh, shit! I thought I was going after you. You’re both redheads. Easy to get mixed up. Would you wanna go to the movies with me tonight?’ And she was so surprised that she said yes, just because she wanted to see if I was all talk and no game.” He pauses, thinking for a moment before letting out a loud laugh. “Y’know, in hindsight, what I said really doesn’t make any fucking sense. And even if they’re both redheads, their hair was two very different shades of red.”

“Hey, it worked,” Bruce shrugs, grinning. “Tenth grade you might have been stupid, but he still had game, apparently.”

“Isn’t that still the case?” 

“If you still had game it would be.” 

“ _ Wow _ , Bruce. Harsh.” Tony puts a hand to his forehead and pouts. He pops the blue candy into his mouth. “Alright, go green.”

“Hmm,” Bruce hums. “I never really thought about it, but I guess my favorite place would be this little fishing outlet in my neighborhood. But only at night. Something about it during the day just isn’t as appealing.” He uncrosses his legs, bringing his knees up to his chest. “This sounds really stupid, but… I swear, every time I go there at night I see a shooting star. Mom used to wish on those all the damn time, so I do, too.”

“That’s corny as hell and I love it,” Tony says. “You’ll have to take me there some time. If you want, I mean.” 

Bruce nods. “I probably will at some point. I just get edgy thinking about you being anywhere near my house. I don’t want my dad seeing you.” He looks at Tony’s candy. “Orange.”

“Ooh, wildcard, huh?” Tony cracks his neck. “Okay, I got this. Sometimes I model outfits for my mom. No lie! When I buy new clothes, she comes in here and I strut out of the closet in my new clothes to show her what they look like.” 

Bruce giggles. “That’s really sweet, Tony.”

“Yeah, me and my mom get along really well,” he laughs softly. “Sometimes I model her clothes, too. Dresses look great on me, did you know that?”

“I don’t doubt that,” Bruce says, his mouth upturned into the biggest grin Tony’s seen him wear yet. “You could make anything look good.”

“Is that so?” Tony asks slyly, an eyebrow raising. Bruce’s face flushes red.

“Yeah, so anyway, what color should I do?”

“The one that matches your face,” Tony winks.

Bruce only blushes more as he picks up the red one. “You’re an asshole,” he mutters before swallowing. “Uh, but— My favorite hobbies are probably reading and… cooking, if I could. I want to cook.”

“Pepper told me,” Tony says. “I find that to be really attractive in a person, actually. No matter what your gender is, if you can cook, I’m hooked.”

“Good to know,” Bruce laughs softly. “Okay, now do another orange.” 

“I have a heart condition,” Tony says. Bruce’s eyes grow wide. “Oh, don’t panic. It's arrhythmia. My heartbeat isn’t quite right, so I had a pacemaker shoved into my collarbone when I was younger. If my heart starts beating too slow or, hell, completely stops, the pacemaker sends out these electric impulses to stimulate my heart so it’ll start beating a little more… normally, again.”

“Aren’t you afraid of that, like… not working?” Bruce asks, fear in his eyes.

“Nah,” Tony says with a shrug. “It’s never gotten so bad that my heart just stopped beating, so. It’s slowed down a couple times but it was nothing this little guy couldn’t fix.” He pats his collarbone. 

“How come you didn’t tell me this when we were kids?” Bruce asks.

“I never really thought it was worth mentioning,” Tony says. “Like, my life isn’t really in danger or anything so it’s not a big deal.”

Truth be told, Tony is actually very afraid of the pacemaker failing to work. He thinks about it almost constantly, wondering if his heart will just  _ stop  _ beating and the pacemaker won’t be able to do a damn thing about it. He hopes it never comes to that.

Bruce doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. Tony picks up Bruce’s orange candy. “Now  _ you  _ tell me something random about yourself.”

Bruce thinks for a moment, his chin resting atop his knees. “I told my mom that I wanted to be a ballerina when I was little.” Tony’s jaw drops. “Yeah, I know, right? I mean, not that I would be against it now, but we used to watch dancing shows on TV all the time and I loved the ballerinas. They danced to a lot of classical music, y’know? I thought it was  _ gorgeous _ , Tony. I still do. So if becoming a scientist doesn’t work out for me, I’ll definitely be looking into that.” He grins, and Tony can’t help but grin back.

“I could see that,” Tony nods. “You’d make a beautiful ballerina, Bruce. The beautiful ballerina, Bruce Banner. Alliteration. I like it.” 

Bruce snorts, tossing the candy into his mouth and making a face at the sourness of it. “Yellow,” he says to Tony.

“Dream job?” He gives Bruce a look. “Come on, Banner. You should know this.”

“I’m pretty sure I do, but I could always be wrong.”

Tony rolls his eyes, smiling. “An engineer. The world’s  _ greatest  _ engineer, actually. Inventor. That kind of thing.”

“Okay, so I was right,” Bruce says. “You’d be great at that. I mean, judging from all the in-progress stuff in your lab and the fact that you literally have a genius I.Q. nineteen points above mine, I’d say you have a pretty good shot.”

“One-eighty-nine?”

“What?”

“You never told me what your I.Q. was,” Tony says. “Just that it was on the genius side. Mine is two-hundred-eight, so.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bruce says, blinking. “I thought I told you that. Anyway, what I’m saying is that you’re ridiculously smart and you have a really good chance of living up to your dream job.” He smiles.

“Shucks,” Tony says, smirking. “So do you, big guy. You’ve got all the makings of a great scientist. Now, go blue.”

Bruce picks up the blue candy and plays with it, tossing it between his hands. “Another memory?” He takes a deep breath. “Me and Betty. When we, uh, ‘dated’ in ninth grade, we went out to see a movie. And I didn’t have a lot of experience with that kind of thing. I thought that I had to, like, kiss her on the first date so she knew I really actually liked her. Don’t laugh! So I came up with an idea. I snuck a pack of… a specific type of candy into the theater in case something went wrong. Near the end of the movie, I asked Betty, ‘Is it okay if I give you a kiss?’ And she looked at me like I was crazy. So obviously she didn’t want me to kiss her on the first date, so I pulled a pack of Hershey’s Kisses out from my jacket. She thought that I did it as a joke and that I really honestly  _ knew _ I wasn’t supposed to kiss her on the first date. So it worked out.”

Tony’s shoulders are shaking from laughter, his face in his hands. “Holy shit, Bruce,” he manages to get out past all the laughter. “Wow, I just… wow. That’s bad. Creative, but bad.”

Bruce blushes once again, but there’s a smile on his face. “I know. I don’t think I ever told her the truth about that, actually.”

“Damn,” Tony clicks his tongue. “Well, guess it’s my turn. Another hobby of mine? Playing video games. But I especially like to screw around with the coding and the files of games.”

“Can’t just leave the games as they are?” Bruce asks playfully.

“No way,” Tony says. “Well, maybe the first time playing it, but after that it’s no fun to play a game you’ve already played. So fucking with the files changes shit up a bit. It’s loads of fun.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” Bruce suggests. “How to do it, I mean. I’m probably not good at video games by themselves, actually, considering I grew up without a computer or a game station. I had my Game Boy, but that’s it.”  
“Do you still have that piece of garbage?” Tony asks, picking at his nails. 

“Yes, and it’s not a piece of garbage,” Bruce says defensively. “Even if I play the same games over and over again, it’s still something.”

“I could make it more high-tech, if you want,” Tony says. “Maybe even make it compatible with other games.”

Bruce shakes his head. “I like it the way it is,” he says. “Old and unbreakable. New shit seems to break all the time.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay, ya old fart.” He reaches down and picks up the bowl of popcorn, throwing a piece at Bruce’s face. “Well, now that we’ve successfully learned a little bit more about each other—such as the fact that I’m constantly at risk of heart failure and that you would be the smartest ballerina known to man—I say we should celebrate by watching a movie.”

“What movie did you have in mind?”

“Only my favorite movie of all time,” Tony says. “ _ La Grande Bouffe. _ It’s about all these people who just gather together in a villa for a weekend to eat themselves to death.”

“That sounds… morbid,” Bruce says, clicking his tongue. “But I guess I’ll watch it. Only if we get to watch  _ my _ favorite movie the next time I spend the night.”

Tony grins. “There’ll be a next time?”

“Well, yeah. I’m having fun. Unless something awful happens before you take me home tomorrow, I’d like to come back.” Bruce shifts on the couch, wringing his hands together. “Do you have a blanket I can use?”

Tony can’t stop smiling for the life of him. “You’re in sweatpants and a hoodie. How are you cold?”

“Not eating enough on a daily basis will do that to you,” Bruce says.

“Fuck. That’s true.” Tony retrieves a blanket from his bed and tosses it over Bruce. “Eat the popcorn. All of it, if you want to.”

Bruce laughs. “I’m fine, Tony. You should eat some, too.” 

“Alright, chicken legs,” Tony says, grabbing a handful of the popcorn and shoving it into his mouth.

“Graceful,” Bruce says, snorting.

Tony grins almost the entire way through the movie. In part because of the movie itself, and also because he can’t stop thinking about how he  _ didn’t  _ fuck up tonight with Bruce. Bruce had a good time and said there would be a next time. This is easy, he thinks. After all, he’s come to realize that Bruce had been right about needing to get to know each other again. And understanding that Bruce is right is bound to make things at least a bit easier on Tony.

By the end of the movie, when the last character dies from eating a cake shaped like breasts, Tony looks over to see Bruce has fallen asleep. He couldn’t have fallen asleep too long ago considering he’d  _ just  _ made a comment about how he hates the name Andrea. Tony will have to make him watch the five or ten minutes he missed in the morning. Afternoon. Whatever time they wake up. For right now, though, Tony simply turns the TV off and looks at Bruce, wondering if he should leave him how he is or move him. If Bruce is already sound asleep, he doesn’t want to wake him up and ruin the chance of him staying that way. The sofa is pretty comfortable, so…

“Hm? Tony?” Bruce’s voice startles Tony out of his decision making process, his hand running through his hair in thought. Bruce is staring blearily at Tony, his glasses crooked on his face and Tony thinks it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. “Whassup?”

“Oh, I was just debating on whether or not I should wake you from your beauty sleep to get you to move to my bed,” Tony shrugs. He grins at Bruce. “But I guess you can make that decision yourself now.” 

Bruce nods, eyes still half-lidded and for a moment, he settles back down into the sofa and Tony thinks that he’s made his decision. Just as Tony is about to retire to his own bed and lie awake staring at the ceiling for hours, Bruce stirs again, standing and leaving the blanket on the couch for Tony before stumbling over to the giant bed. He climbs in, gets under the covers, immediately curls in on himself and doesn’t even look at Tony when he says, “Thanks for tonight.”

Tony chuckles, sauntering over and gently removing the glasses from Bruce’s face, setting them on the bedside table. “My pleasure.”

Tony falls asleep three hours later at four in the morning, dreaming of a classroom full of himself and Pepper where Bruce gives the best speech he’s ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i guess that tony's fave movie in this is rdj's fave movie irl?? so i was paying homage to that ayyy
> 
> anyway yeah tony's got a heart condition and bruce would literally make the prettiest ballerina ever 
> 
> pls leave feedback i literally live and breathe commentary on my writing
> 
> i'll update some time next week!! i hope u guys like the long chapter <3


	13. nicknames and bad dads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce accidentally has a conversation with Howard Stark and Tony comes up with yet another nickname for his curly-haired friend.

At two-thirty in the afternoon, Tony wakes up to find that Bruce is definitely not in his bed and for a moment, Tony thinks that he dreamt all of last night. Then he sees the bag of Sour Patch Kids on the floor and, well, that’s enough proof for him. Now to just find where he went off to.

His lab? Nope. Any of the billion bathrooms? Not that Tony can tell. Kitchen? Nothing. Then he hears talking from the living room. Oh, great. Bruce got wrapped up in a conversation with his mom.

Only, that’s definitely not his mom. 

Howard Stark is currently sitting in the living room, a cup of coffee in his left hand and a book in his right. It’s angled downward so that he can talk to Bruce. Tony freezes in the doorway upon seeing this.

This is weird for a lot of reasons. One, Tony rarely ever sees his dad. The most he sees him is either when Tony goes to Howard’s lab to steal a tool of his or when Howard is roaming around the house doing God only knows what. Two, Howard isn’t the type to engage in conversation with someone of little importance, and especially not a teenager. It’s shocking to Tony that his father is actually bothering to make eye contact with Bruce while speaking to him. And three (but the list goes on), Bruce has daddy issues. It’s strange that Bruce is sitting here having a civilized conversation with Howard Stark, a father that Tony has mentioned is not the best, without stuttering or looking down constantly. Tony doesn’t know if he should be proud of him or not. 

From what he can tell, Howard is in the middle of talking about whatever project he’s working on at the moment when he notices Tony and stops talking. Bruce blinks, turning and spotting Tony in the doorway.

“Tony, hi!” Bruce says, a smile forming on his face. Tony can see something in his eyes that makes him furrow his brow. “Your dad was just telling me about the cars he’s been working on.”

“That right?” Tony offers a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Howard nods, closing his book and setting it off to the side. “Yes,” he says, “but I should really be getting back to work. I have a conference to attend later today and I need to be ready.” He stands, awkwardly looking at Bruce. “It was nice to meet you, ah… Bruce.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Stark,” Bruce nods, giving an awkward smile of his own. 

Howard barely glances at Tony as he pushes past him out of the room. Tony is dumbstruck for a moment, just standing in the doorway until he hears Bruce let out a long sigh, like he’d been holding his breath for too long. When Tony looks at him, he’s got his face in his hands and his shoulders are slumped. 

Tony takes the chair his dad had been sitting in. “What the hell was that?” He asks, eyebrows raised. “You were just talking to my  _ dad.” _

Bruce looks up at Tony, dragging his hands down his face. He leans back and huffs. “Holy shit, Tony,” he breathes. “I thought I was gonna die. Seriously. I came in here to sit down and maybe read or something, but I walked in and your dad was just. Sitting right there. And I didn’t want to be rude and just turn around and leave when he’d obviously seen me come in already, so I just stayed! I sat down and I told him I didn’t mean to bother him and I honestly don’t remember much else because I was too busy trying not to look like I was gonna cry.” 

Tony blinks. “Well, you did a pretty good job of not looking like you were dying,” he says. “Your eyes looked a little pained, but that’s it. Something to work on.”

“Seriously, thank you for showing up when you did,” Bruce says, laughing a bit hysterically. “I didn’t know how much longer I could sit there for. I just— I didn’t wanna be rude!” He puts his face in his hands again. “Why couldn’t I have walked in on your mom? That would have been so much easier.”

“Fun fact: the second anyone enters the Stark household, your life takes a drastic turn for the worst.” Tony shifts in the seat, crossing his legs. He purses his lips. “Guess I shouldn’t be saying that to  _ you,  _ of all people.”

“Like I said, pain isn’t a contest,” Bruce sighs. “I ate cereal this morning. I hope it’s okay that I just… did that without asking.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tony says, shrugging. “Remember? I said that you can take anything you want from in there whenever you want.”

Bruce thanks Tony, fingers pushing through curly locks again. 

“Curly,” Tony says. “There’s another one.”

Bruce tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Freckles, Glasses, and Curly,” Tony says. “Three nicknames for you so far. That’s not counting my occasional usage of the term ‘big guy.’ When are you gonna come up with something for me?”

“You just gotta give me time!” Bruce laughs. “I’m not as clever as you are.”

“Don’t have to be clever to come up with a name like Curly.” 

Bruce just groans.

When the time comes for Tony to take Bruce home, Bruce refuses to let Tony drive him. He insists on walking, telling Tony that it’s a nice day out and he could use the time to himself. Tony just thinks that Bruce is worried about his dad seeing him being dropped off by Tony Stark. It’s a valid reason, Tony thinks. Bruce’s dad seems to be the type that will look for any reason to flip out and throw some punches. If it’ll save Bruce some pain, Tony will let him walk home as much as he wants. It’s not far anyway.

When he’s alone in the kitchen, Maria catches him staring at the back of a box of Froot Loops. “You’re doing what’s best,” she says suddenly, making Tony raise an eyebrow in question.

“Context, please?” He inquires.

“For your friendship with Bruce,” she elaborates. “I walked by your room last night and heard you talking about the game you were playing. With the candy. It was cute.”

Tony blushes. “You seriously had to eavesdrop?”

“I didn’t have to, but I did,” Maria chuckles. “It was only for a second, don’t worry. I didn’t hear any of the answers from either of you. I only heard you explain it and I heard Bruce call it dorky.”

Tony groans, an irritated smile making its way onto his face. “Oh, my God. It was fun, though! He talked about his mom and his ex-girlfriend and I told him about how I like to model your clothes sometimes.”

“You wear my dresses better than I do,” Maria sighs.

“Damn skippy.”

“Anyway,” Maria says with a smile, “you’re doing the right thing, is all I’m saying, Tony. It may take some time, but he’ll come around.”

“I feel like him talking to Dad might have put him off a little bit,” Tony says, cringing.

“He talked to your father?” Maria asks, eyes wide. “Well. How did that go?”

“After Dad left the room, Bruce just about turned into a puddle,” Tony snorts. “He’d been scared shitless. Dad’s pretty intimidating, though, so that’s understandable. He is Howard Stark, after all.”

Yes, and Tony is his son. 

He prays that he doesn’t turn into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT AAAAA but at least it's an update!!! anyway i'll try to update it a little sooner since this chapter was so short ok?? ok. cool. please comment it's good for my skin


	14. dodgeball and arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony finds out that Bruce knows sign language and Pepper kicks his ass at dodgeball.

In Tony’s sixth hour, there’s a deaf boy. He’s new, from what Tony can tell. He’s never seen him around before this year. Tony’s never bothered to talk to him because he doesn’t know much sign language; some of the alphabet and a couple key phrases like “thank you” and “how are you doing?” Natasha, Pepper’s best friend, is apparently really good friends with him and Tony finds it interesting to watch them sign to each other during class. From what Pepper told him, the boy—Clint—can read lips very well and  _ does _ have twenty-percent of his ability to hear, but Natasha likes to sign what the teacher is saying to him when she has the chance because it makes it easier for him and it’s fun for her to practice her signing. Sometimes she learns something new. Tony’s seen Natasha and Clint talking to Steve on a couple occasions, both of them teaching Steve certain signs. Sometimes Tony wants to ask if they’ll teach him, too, but he knows that Natasha doesn’t particularly like him. 

Today, Tony decides to be a little shit and cut his second hour to go visit Bruce and Pepper in gym class. It’s been a week since Bruce spent the night at Tony’s house, and he’d been over to hang out after school twice after that. Both times they’d played video games or practiced for the speech that Bruce, by the way, fucking  _ nailed _ . Sure, his voice had shaken and he could have made more eye contact, but he got an A- on it! Tony had clapped the loudest for him.

Tony’s glad that the gym teacher is fucking oblivious to everything happening around him or else he’d get kicked out of that class faster than he’s ever gotten kicked out of any other class. Since he was already wearing a T-shirt, Tony simply grabbed a pair of basketball shorts that had been in his locker for an indistinguishable amount of time and stuck those on. Bruce’s face when Tony had slipped into the locker room and snuck up behind him had been priceless. When he’d waited outside the girl’s locker room for Pepper and attempted to scare her, she hadn’t even flinched. 

Now, since the teacher apparently didn’t make any plans for the day, he has them picking teams for a dodgeball match. Tony gets picked first, much to his pleasure. Pepper is picked not long after him (by the opposing team, damn it) and Bruce is picked near the end when not many people are left and ends up on Pepper’s team. This doesn’t surprise him. But when the last three kids are being picked, Tony realizes that Clint is among them. He ends up being the last one, but even as the last one, both teams are hesitant to pick him.

“You take the deaf kid,” Tony’s team captain says to the opposing team’s captain. “I don’t want him.”

“No fucking way, man,” the other says. “He’s useless! He won’t be able to hear when I shout orders.”

“When do you shout orders in dodgeball?” Pepper asks, looking at her team captain with distaste. 

The captain stammers over his words for a moment. “Oh, I do, trust me,” he says, and Tony has to fight back condescending laughter. 

“Look, if neither of the teams want me, I’ll just sit out,” Clint speaks. Tony had never heard him speak before. His words are slurred but still understandable. Tony feels a strange sense of admiration toward him. 

Unfortunately, Clint speaking only adds fuel to their fire. The captains mock his speech and so do a few other students. Tony looks at Pepper and Bruce, asking with his eyes,  _ “Can you believe this shit?” _

“Can’t wait until the archery unit,” Clint says. “I’ll kick all your asses then.”

“That a threat?” Tony’s team captain asks, his eyebrows raising. “Better not give the deaf kid any arrows, he might kill us with them.”

“Uh-oh, deaf kid’s going crazy!” Pepper’s team captain laughs. 

“What the hell did he ever do to you?” Tony speaks up, stepping up to his team captain. “How about you leave him alone? We can take him. If he gets knocked out, he gets knocked out. It’s not fucking hurting anyone, so why don’t you shut the fuck up and just add him to the team?”

“I’d rather not be a pity-pick,” Clint says, shrugging. “I’ll just sit out if it’s all the same to you, Stark. Thanks, though. It was a valiant effort.”

“Y’know, my stomach’s not feeling so great right now,” Bruce says. Tony cocks his head in confusion. “I think I’m gonna sit out, too.”

“Great,” Pepper’s team captain says. “Two for two. One deaf kid and one weirdo.”

Tony fumes at that. It’s one thing to pick on Clint for being deaf (that’s not to say that Tony wouldn’t make a few jokes about it if he were Clint’s friend, but they would be good-natured), but it’s an entire other thing to pick on Bruce. 

“Can we just start the game?” Tony asks. Man, did he pick the wrong day to crash Pepper’s gym class. 

Once the teams are on either side of the gym, the coach blows his whistle (seriously, if he’s paying attention, why the hell didn’t he intervene?) and the game begins. Tony can’t help but repeatedly glance over at Bruce and Clint sitting on the bench together, and for a bit, their mouths move as they talk. Eventually, though, they’re both signing.

Even Bruce.

Huh. Tony didn’t know that Bruce knew sign language. He wonders if Bruce had known anyone who was deaf when he was younger. Maybe that’s why he knows it? Or maybe he just taught it to himself for kicks. Either way, Tony thinks it’s impressive and he can’t stop looking at the way Bruce’s hands move so gracefully and fluidly, like they were  _ meant _ to move like that and he just wants to—

_ WHAM! _

Tony feels himself fall onto his ass, a hand flying to his head where the ball hit him, right on the forehead. He glares at the other team, attempting to find the ball-thrower who’d hit him so aggressively. When he sees Pepper grinning triumphantly back at him, he throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Seriously, Pep?” He calls. “That was a headshot! Aren’t those against the rules?”

“Not if the coach doesn’t see it,” Pepper says, winking. To Tony’s dismay, the coach is, once again, not paying any attention to what’s going on around him, but rather reading a copy of  _ Sports Illustrated. _

“Damn you, Potts.” Tony shakes his head as he stands up, making his way over to where Bruce and Clint are sat on the bench. His forehead is warm where it had been smacked and the  _ second _ Bruce and Clint see his face, they’re both cackling. “Ha ha, yes, very funny. I’ve got a giant red mark on my forehead, don’t I?”

“Red is an understatement,” Bruce giggles. “It looks angry, doesn’t it?” He asks Clint. Clint nods, dissolving into laughter again.

“Great. This is what I get for skipping class to come and see you guys. I love it.” Tony takes a seat on the bench next to Bruce, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks over at Clint. “You really don’t seem to give a shit that no one wanted you on their team.”

Clint shrugs. “Why would I want to be on a team that doesn’t want me?” 

Tony nods. “I guess that makes sense. Still, though. They said some shitty stuff. Don’t know if you caught all of it, or…” He gestures to his ears, a smirk on his face.

To his relief, Clint actually laughs. He didn’t know if that joke would be taken well or not. “I caught most of it. Thanks for speakin’ up, though. That was cool.” 

“Yeah, well,” Tony says, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal. You’d have done the same. Right?”

Clint purses his lips. “I dunno, might not have. I mean, if it were the exact same situation, then yeah. But if you were getting picked on for being an ass, then probably not.” He grins.

Tony supposes he can understand that. “Fair enough. By the way, Bruce? I expect you to teach me some of that shit the next time we hang out.” Tony pokes Bruce in the arm, and Bruce winces, rubbing the spot he’d poked. Tony hadn’t meant to poke it so hard. He has to remember that Bruce is sort of constantly covered in bruises.

“You taught me how to give a speech, so it’s only fair,” Bruce says. “You can teach yourself the alphabet until we hang out next. It’ll make it easier.”

Tony beams, nodding in satisfaction before looking back out at the game happening in front of them. A couple more kids have fallen in the time they’ve been talking, and as they watch, more and more come crashing down. Pepper is still holding her own, much to Tony’s delight. Bruce makes a comment on how Pepper looks like she’s taking the game way too seriously and Tony reminds them that she’s the one who gave him the angry forehead. Of course she takes it way too seriously.

Pepper’s team wins. Clint mutters something about how he would have won the game in half the time that it took to win for whatever team he’d been on. Bruce says something to him in sign language and Clint signs “ _ thank you.” _

When the game is over, Tony joins the rest of the class for some basic exercises such as walking around the gym for an unGodly amount of time, stretching in ways the body should not be able to stretch, and heading over to the weight room to walk on treadmills (as if that’s not the same exact thing as walking around the gym, holy fuck) and, y’know, lift weights. When class is over, Tony returns to the boy’s locker room with Bruce. Of course, Bruce heads to the stalls to change back into his regular clothes while Tony just changes in front of everyone else. There are a few boys who seem to want to stay as far away from Tony as possible. Tony knows it’s because he’s openly bisexual. He doesn’t care. If it will make homophobes uncomfortable, he’s all for it.

Pepper tells Bruce that she thinks it’s really cool that he knows sign language, and that she took the class on it her junior year but forgot a lot of it over the summer. Bruce offers to teach both her and Tony at some point.

Well, ‘some point’ becomes every Tuesday after school. Bruce’s dad is never home until later in the evening on Tuesdays, so he doesn’t have to worry about his dad wondering where he is every Tuesday. It just becomes a thing that they do. All three of them hanging out at either Tony’s place or Pepper’s place (more often than not, it’s Tony’s mansion) and eating a snack while Bruce teaches them sign language. Sometimes they don’t even do that. Sometimes it’s just the three of them hanging out together, watching movies and talking or working on other homework, or Pepper talking about a girl in one of her classes named Maria Hill whom Pepper seems to think is really cool and wants to hang out with her soon. With how much time they all spend together and how much they tell each other, they quickly become the three musketeers and Tony is just brimming with happiness at that. He especially loves the fact that over the next month and a half, Bruce gets more and more comfortable with him to the point that instead of asking if he can spend the night, he just up and tells Tony he’s going to come over and hang out or spend the night. Tony’s waiting for the day that Bruce is so comfortable with him he won’t even let Tony know before he comes over. 

It’s a Tuesday and Pepper has to leave a little earlier than usual because she promised her dad that she’d help him with some office work before tomorrow. After hugging Bruce goodbye and giving Tony a kiss on the cheek, Tony shuts the door behind her and they both return to Tony’s room so they can collapse onto his sofa and pick out whatever show on Netflix they want to binge next. Bruce lies perpendicular to an upright Tony, his head on his lap. He’s (thankfully) gotten progressively more comfortable with physical contact as well. So much so that even Pepper is allowed to toss her feet onto Bruce’s lap or lean her head on his shoulder while they’re watching movies. They have a really good dynamic going on, Tony thinks. It’s nice.

Bruce asks Tony if he wants a chip from the bag sitting on his stomach and Tony simply opens his mouth, gesturing to it without taking his eyes off the TV screen. Bruce just snorts and reaches up to shove a chip into Tony’s mouth. Tony grins cheekily as Bruce lowers his arm again. When he glances down at him, the sleeve of his hoodie is riding up and Tony can see the large, white scar at the top of his wrist along with some smaller healed scars that were definitely self-inflicted. Tony swallows.

“Hey, Curly?” He asks. Bruce looks up at him with an inquisitive expression. “You haven’t made any… any new ones, right?” He gestures to his arm.

Bruce’s expression hardens. “‘Course not.”

Tony hears the hesitancy in his voice. “Bruce…”

“They’re not  _ that _ new,” Bruce snaps, pulling his sleeve down over his hand and balling his fist in it. “I haven’t done anything in, like, almost two weeks. And they’re not even that bad.”

Tony sighs. He knows that while he’s at least two years clean, Bruce still struggles with this kind of thing. It breaks his heart. “Why do you do that?” Tony asks with a furrowed brow.

Bruce hesitates. “I… don’t know. It’s a habit, Tony. I can’t just stop doing it with a snap of my fingers.”

“No, I know that,” Tony says. “God, I know that. It took me a long fucking time to get clean. But… I don’t know, it just doesn’t make any sense to me why you would do it.”

“How does it not make sense to you?” Bruce asks, and Tony can hear a bit of defensiveness in his tone. Uh-oh.

“Just— I dunno, your dad already hurts you enough,” Tony says, shrugging helplessly. He’s probably just digging his own grave at this point. “It doesn’t make sense to me why you’d want to add more pain to what he deals to you already.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, unmoving and unwilling to make eye contact with Tony. When he finally speaks, it seems forced. “There’s a lot you don’t know about, Tony. Stay out of it.”

“Um, no,” Tony says, unable to believe that Bruce expects him to just…  _ not care. _ “I’m not going to stay out of it. You’re my be— my friend, Bruce. I want to make sure that you’re okay.”

Bruce suddenly sits up, turning and looking at Tony with a set jaw and a cold stare. “I’m fine. This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now. Actually, I think I’m going to head home.”

Tony curses himself for even starting this conversation in the first place. Bruce is already standing up and grabbing his school bag, gathering up his homework and shoving it inside. “Shit, man, you know I’m only trying to—”

“I don’t care,” Bruce interrupts. “I’ve had a long day, okay? I just want to go home and be alone for a while.”

Tony bites his tongue, irritation rising within him. “Fine,” he says curtly. “Pardon me for trying to fucking help you.”

Bruce doesn’t give Tony a response. He simply gathers his things, and leaves.

Tony wants to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for commenting on my last chapter my skin has cleared up quite a bit since then
> 
> and also! i would say i'm sorry for leaving this chapter on a bad note, but i'm not. i'm not sorry at all. lmao. don't worry this isn't even the worst part! things get MUCH more fucked up later on!
> 
> oops. i have said too much. remember to keep commenting so that my crops remain watered, my skin remains clear, and my bipolar depression remains cured. peace out, homies.


	15. watches and apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony just wants Bruce to accept his goddamn love.

The next day, Tony reluctantly wakes from his slumber to get ready for school. Shower, makeup, slicked back hair, leather jacket and backpack. He gets a text from Pepper as he’s walking out to his car that she’s not going to school today because she’s vomiting up the contents of her stomach thanks to the bug that’s going around. Tony cringes, knowing that he’ll have to face Bruce alone if he’s at school. He doesn’t look forward to that at all.

In his third period, Bruce won’t even look at him. Instead of actually giving any speeches, the class spends the hour writing rough drafts of what their next speech is going to be. Tony uses that as a distraction from thinking about Bruce. When that class is over, Bruce leaves without saying a word to Tony. Yikes.

By sixth hour, Tony decides that he has had enough. This is bullshit and he knows it. He was only trying to help! He knows that he can’t make Bruce tell him  _ why _ he does it to himself and he knows that he can’t make Bruce stop, but he also knows that he can be there for him! He can be his rock and he can help him get through tough nights and just make it so Bruce isn’t dealing with this alone. He has to make Bruce understand  _ that _ much. So when sixth hour is about to begin and Tony walks in to see Bruce already sitting in his usual seat, he immediately marches up to him and takes the seat next to him.

Bruce casts him a sideways glance. “That’s not your seat.”

“Yes, I know, it’s the one next to it.” Tony rolls his eyes. “But seriously. Listen. I didn’t mean to offend you yesterday and I’m sorry if I did. But all I want is to help. You don’t have to tell me why you’re doing it and I’m not going to try to make you stop because I know I can’t, but I do want you to have someone to talk to when you feel like you want to do that. All that cheesy shit.” Tony reaches into his backpack. “So take this already, okay? And text me if you’re not feeling too hot.”

Bruce stares at the watch Tony is holding out to him, blinking. “Tony, I really don’t—”

“Oh, my God,” Tony looks up as if he’s praying, “just take the fucking watch, Bruce. Please. For the love of everything, take the watch. I’m tired of holding onto it.”

Bruce grits his teeth, looking between Tony and the watch. After what seems like an eternity to Tony, Bruce finally takes it and puts it on his wrist. “Fine,” Bruce says. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Hey, you seem pretty comfortable with me now,” Tony says. “It’s about time you take the damn thing.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bruce sighs. “Thanks. I don’t know how often I’ll use it, but… thanks.”

“Just—” Tony takes a deep breath, setting a hand on Bruce’s forearm. “Please text me if you feel like you need to leave? Or if you feel like you’re going to do something to yourself?” 

“Like I said, no promises,” Bruce says quietly. “But I’ll try. Okay? Just… calm down a little.”

Tony gives a sarcastic laugh. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do that.” He realizes his hand has been resting on Bruce’s arm a lot longer than he meant for it to, and that he should probably remove it before Bruce starts to think he’s weird. But he’s Tony Stark, and he doesn’t know when to stop, so he retracts his hand by dragging it down Bruce’s arm and over his fingers before dropping it into his lap. “Anyway, we should hang out the next time you get a chance. Y’know, to make up for me pissing you off last night.”

Bruce nods, smiling. Tony notices how Bruce touches where Tony had dragged his fingers down his arm and he fights back a smile. It seems to be a subconscious move on Bruce’s part, though, so Tony doubts it really means anything. “You can _ really  _ make up for it by buying me Thai food when we hang out.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you only like me for my money?” Tony says as he kicks his legs up onto the table and tilts his seat back.

“Not true,” Bruce says, a deadpan expression on his face. “I like other stuff about you, too, like your ability to own lots of high-tech stuff and a large house—”

Tony laughs and Bruce dissolves into a fit of giggles as well. “Nah,” Bruce says, “seriously. I like you ‘cause you’re fun to hang out with. I  _ did _ miss talking to you, y’know. Thanks for going my speed.”

“No problem,” Tony says nonchalantly. “I’d say that you’ve undergone some serious character development. I mean, you may not be okay with sharing a bed yet but at least you’re physically comfortable with me when we’re awake. That’s the shit I like.” He winks.

Bruce’s face tints pink and Tony pretends it’s because it’s warm in here. “Okay, Tony.” He scratches the back of his neck and turns back to his papers on his desk. “Um, by the way, where’s Pepper?”

“Stomach bug,” Tony says. “She’s throwin’ up her entire stomach. I’m gonna bring her popsicles and ginger ale after school, wanna come?” 

“I can’t,” Bruce says with a disappointed frown. “I, uh, told my dad that I would clean the house today.”

“Yikes,” Tony says, cringing. “Well, y’know. Now you can text me when you want to hang out.”

Bruce genuinely smiles and Tony’s heart melts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I KEPT FORGETTING TO UPDATE IM SORRY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> ALSO I KNOW THIS ONE IS SHORT I'LL POST THE NEW CHAPTER IN A FEW DAYS I PROMISE THIS TIME AAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> i'm gonna kick my own ass im so sorry for taking so long my life has been consumed by yuri on ice b y e


	16. broken noses and practice kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce has a broken nose and Tony has a broken heart.

Pepper is in the middle of throwing up when Tony walks into her house with popsicles and a twelve pack of ginger ale. Her mom is holding her hair back in the sink and Tony immediately goes to rub her back, telling her mom that she looks like she’s got her work cut out for her. Pepper rolls her eyes at him. When she sees what he brought her, she gives a tired smile and has her mom put the soda in the fridge and the popsicles in the freezer (but not before taking one of the sodas) and says that she would hug Tony but she doesn’t want to get him sick. He tells her that if he wakes up tomorrow and he looks as bad as she does, he’ll never forgive her. She laughs even though it seems to make her feel sick to do so.

Tony doesn’t stay long because Pepper needs a nap and Tony needs to not be disgustingly sick within the next twenty-four hours. He blows her a kiss and tucks her in before leaving to head home. Her mom thanks him for stopping by on the way out and hugs him. He loves getting hugs from her mom. It makes him feel like part of her family.

The fact that he feels guilty every time he sees Pepper probably isn’t a good thing, right?

At home, Tony wastes time tinkering with Dummy and You (another robot in progress) and watching his mom while she knits a blanket that she says is for Bruce. “He’s always shivering,” she tells Tony. “I know he already has you, but he could use another warm thing in his life.” Tony smiles like an idiot and feels his cheeks flush at that.

He wishes that he could ask Bruce to come over and spend the night again. He knows that Bruce has to clean, though, and they just hung out yesterday. Bruce probably needs a break. Most of the time, Bruce can only spend the night on weekends. Occasionally his dad will go out and Bruce knows he won’t be back until the next day, so he can spend the night during weekdays as well. Tony’s mother says that she’s fine with this as long as they’re in Tony’s room by eleven and they at least  _ try _ to sleep. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Sleep isn’t Tony’s first priority when Bruce is over. 

It’s nine-thirty on Wednesday night when Tony gets a text from Bruce.

From: Bruce  
_ Can I come in? _

Tony blinks at the message. Is Bruce outside? Before he even responds, Tony pushes himself away from his projects and heads for the door, finally typing out a response.

To: Bruce  
_Yeah_

Tony sends the message and is heading down the hall and down the stairs and he gets there just in time to see Bruce walking in out of the rain. Tony drops the pliers he didn’t know he was still holding and immediately rushes to Bruce’s side, eyes wide and brow furrowed in both concern and confusion. He pushes the hood off of Bruce’s head and the first thing he sees is his crooked nose and blood running down his chin. Tony feels his stomach drop. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Tony asks even though he already knows the answer. 

Bruce inhales shakily. “I— I’m sorry I didn’t ask b-before I came over,” he says. “I should have, I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” Tony almost snaps. He doesn’t have any patience for Bruce’s social anxiety right now, if he’s being honest with himself. He just wants to check out Bruce’s nose without his mom seeing any of this if it can be helped. “Come on, we’re going up to my lab.” He doesn’t bother telling Bruce to take his shoes off at the door. He’ll clean the dirt up once this is all taken care of. 

Once Tony has successfully gotten Bruce into his lab without his mom appearing out of nowhere and seeing Bruce’s battered form, he sits the other boy on top of one of the tables, pushing machine parts and papers and tools out of the way to make room. Bruce is shivering and Tony wants to get him out of those wet clothes, but he knows he’s going to have to fix his nose first. It doesn’t look too bad, just crooked and bleeding. Obviously broken, but it’s nothing Tony can’t fix himself.

“We’re going to have to set your nose,” Tony says, pushing Bruce’s wet curls out of his eyes. “And that’s… probably going to hurt a lot. But it’ll be quick.”

Tony panics for a moment because, holy shit, he’s never actually had to do this before. He’s never had a broken nose and he’s never set someone’s nose for them. What if he fucks Bruce’s nose up even more? What if—

“I know, Tony,” Bruce says, startling Tony. “I broke my nose when I was really little, actually. The doctor had to set it back for me. I don’t think I could handle doing it on my own.” He chuckles.

Tony goes and retrieves a box of tissues for Bruce to clean his face with. He wipes up the running blood and then presses it against the bottom of his nose to keep any more blood from coming out. “Okay, well,” Tony says, “I know you need to blow your nose a lot. Like, as much as you possibly can without your brain coming out. And I know that there’s a way to do this with popsicle sticks, but I trust my hands more than I trust those.” 

Bruce blows his nose for a moment, and when he’s made two tissues bloody and snotty, he looks at Tony. “This should be fun.”

“What the hell did you even do to make your dad break your fucking nose?” Tony asks, pulling up the chair from the circle of keyboards and sitting in front of Bruce. “Clean the house too well? Misplace something of his?”

Bruce huffs. “I forgot to clean the bathroom. I basically cleaned every other room in the house and then I fell asleep, and when I woke up he was shaking me and screaming and smelled like booze and he… he took me to the bathroom.” Bruce hugs himself, taking a deep breath. “He kept saying that I didn’t do what he asked and that I’m lazy and self-absorbed. And I kind of said something that just made him angrier, which was stupid.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “What did you say?”

“I told him that the bathroom wasn’t even that dirty to begin with,” Bruce says, wincing. “He didn’t take that so well. Shoved my face onto the counter telling me to look at it, look how dirty it is, but he shoved a little too hard and my nose hit the edge at  _ just _ the right angle. Felt great.”

“I bet.” Tony shakes his head in aggravation. “Your dad sounds like a great guy. How’d you get out, though?”

“Ah, he left me alone after that and passed out on the couch. I booked it from there.” Bruce touches his nose lightly, making a pained face. Tony reaches up and takes Bruce’s hand away.

“Alright, well, I’m glad you came here,” Tony says. He leans in close to look at Bruce’s nose. Tony doesn’t notice the way Bruce’s eyes widen. “Okay, guess we better get this over with. You ready?”

Bruce nods, pressing his lips together in a tight line. Tony puts his fingers on either side of Bruce’s nose, feeling around for where would be the best spot to realign it. This takes a moment, and he doubts that the swelling helps, but he finally finds what he’s pretty sure is the correct spot and holds his fingers there. He asks Bruce one more time if he’s ready, and when he nods, Tony counts down from three before pushing his fingers together. He hears a  _ crack! _ and Bruce lets out a pained groan, eyes squeezing shut as his nose realigns almost completely. 

“Fuck,” Tony says as he leans back, letting Bruce take a moment to get his bearings. “It’s almost there. I think we just need to go one more time.”

Bruce groans again. “Damn it,” he hisses. “That hurt like  _ hell _ . I knew it would, but holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Tony nods. “You good for the next one?”

“Why not?” Bruce nods. 

Tony repeats the same process, placing his fingers on what he’s sure is the best spot to press. He pushes his fingers together again and they hear another crack, this one not being nearly as loud as the first one, and when Tony pulls back, Bruce’s nose looks swollen— but right as rain. Bruce has his eyes squeezed shut again and he’s breathing heavily through his now realigned nose. 

“You okay, big guy?” Tony asks, patting his shoulder. 

“As okay as I can be,” Bruce chuckles breathlessly. “Jesus fucking Christ. It’s over, right? You don’t need to do another one?” 

“Nope, you’re all good!” Tony grins. “But we definitely need to get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold. I would have made you change before fixing your nose, but I didn’t want you getting blood on any of my shirts.”

“Always the materialist,” Bruce sighs, smiling. 

Bruce ends up with a green T-shirt, a pair of sweatpants that are a little too big on him, a black hoodie and a towel to dry his hair off with. Tony briefly thinks that his clothes look really nice on Bruce, even if they are rather loose. Bruce has actually gained a couple pounds since he started hanging out with Tony and Pepper, though, which makes Tony immensely happy. The kid deserves to be full and happy.

Just as Bruce is done drying off his hair and Tony’s finished tidying up his closet, Tony hears his mother’s voice and he freezes as she knocks on his bedroom door. 

“Tony?” She says, opening Tony’s door just a bit and poking her head in. 

“Yeah, Mom?” Tony bounds over to her.

“I was just wondering why there’s water and dirt tracks all along the floor and up the stairs.” Maria opens the door the rest of the way, stepping in and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Oh, uh—”

“That was my fault, Mrs. Stark,” Bruce says, cutting Tony off. He waves awkwardly at Maria. “I, um, came in and forgot to take my shoes off. Tony didn’t notice. I can go clean it up if you want?”

_ Bless his sad little heart _ , Tony thinks. Maria casts a concerned look toward Bruce.

“What happened to your nose, dear?” She asks.

“I slipped in the bathroom and caught it on the edge of the counter,” Bruce says, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. 

“You need to take better care of your face,” Maria scolds. “If it keeps getting bruised and battered, eventually it won’t be a face at all.” She looks at Tony. “I’ll have the maid clean it up. But make sure you check to see if either of you have your shoes on next time. Are you staying the night, Bruce?”

Bruce nods. “If that’s okay with you.”

Tony smiles. He had been wondering if Bruce planned on staying all night or just came over here to have Tony help him with his nose. He kind of figured Bruce wouldn’t  _ want _ to stay all night, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“It’s fine.” Maria waves a hand dismissively. “You know the rules about staying over on a school night. Try to get some sleep, alright? You both look absolutely exhausted.” 

“Okay, Mom,” Tony says impatiently. He gives her a kiss on the cheek before shooing her out, closing the door behind her and turning back to Bruce. “Nice cover story. You’re really good with those.”

“I gotta be,” Bruce shrugs. “You know that.” He saunters over to the balcony door. “It stopped raining.”

“It’s supposed to start again later,” Tony says, joining Bruce by the door. 

Bruce is quiet for a moment, eyes trained on the world outside of Tony’s room. Tony just looks at him. 

“Can we smoke?” Bruce suddenly asks. Tony blinks.

“Weed?”

“No, Tony, cigarettes. Yes, weed!” 

“Well, hey,” Tony holds up his hands in defense. “For all I know you could have picked up the habit recently. But yes, we can smoke weed. I got a couple joints.”

“Where do you even get that stuff?” Bruce asks, watching as Tony wanders over to his dresser and pulls out a small box. 

“A good client never reveals where he gets his stuff,” Tony says. He looks at Bruce. “I got it from Wanda Maximoff. Her and her brother are way into this. It’s awesome. Just don’t tell anyone else.”

“I don’t have anyone to tell.” Bruce watches as Tony pulls two joints out from the box, then reseals it and puts it back in the drawer. He hands one to Bruce, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. “Do you just always have a lighter on you?”

Tony nods. “Hell yeah, I do. You never know when you’re gonna need fire, Bruce.” He opens the balcony door, shivering as the cool night air hits him. It’s well into autumn by now, and Tony’s glad that he’s wearing a hoodie as well or he’d be freezing. Bruce is already shivering, teeth chattering against the cold. “Hey, when’s your birthday?”

“December eighteenth, why?” Bruce quirks an eyebrow. 

“No real reason. I just realized that I had no idea when it was.” Tony twirls the lighter in his hand. “You wanna play a game with this?”

When Bruce asks Tony what kind of game, Tony grins. “Okay,” he says, “it’s called Traffic Lights. Basically what happens is that on my first turn, I take one hit. So do you. That’s the first round. Then, on the second round, we take two hits. Third round, three hits. Each. And it keeps escalating. Also, we have to try and hold the smoke in until the other person is done taking their hits.”

Bruce purses his lips, examining his joint. “Sounds kinda fun,” Bruce nods. “Let’s do it. I’m down to get fucked up.”

Tony grins. “I can’t believe I didn’t even have to remind you that you said you would smoke with me at some point,” he says, sitting down on the ground. It’s a little damp, but it’s nothing too uncomfortable. Bruce joins him. “But hey, you probably just wanna not feel anything for a while, right?”

“Oho, yeah,” Bruce snorts. “Especially my body. Because, as you know, I’m in constant physical agony.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Tony says, placing his joint between his lips. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” 

He takes one hit, Bruce takes one hit. It’s no problem for Tony to hold in the smoke for such a short amount of time. It gets to be a problem when they’re taking five hits and up, and eventually they just stop trying to hold it in altogether. At some point, their joints ran out and they’re a laughing fit on the ground, Bruce lying down and looking up at the stars as Tony forces himself to stand up. He honestly has no idea what’s going on right now and he  _ loves _ it. He can’t remember what the hell Bruce was saying ten seconds ago. He hopes it wasn’t important.

Tony leans over the railing for a moment, looking down with narrowed eyes before turning back to Bruce and going to stand over him. It’s just a solid minute of Tony and Bruce staring each other down, not saying a word to each other, before Bruce blinks and starts laughing.

“What?” Tony asks, a bright smile on his face from Bruce’s laughter.

“I was looking up at the stars but then I realized I was just looking at your easily-excitable ass,” Bruce grins.

Tony laughs as well. “I might as well be the same thing as the stars,” he says, sitting down. “I mean, I’m beautiful and mysterious, so.”

Bruce pushes himself onto his elbows, looking at Tony again, this time with a frown on his face. “I have a question for you.”  
Tony cocks his head, startled by the sudden statement. “Okay, shoot.”

“What do you do if you really want to kiss someone, but you have no idea how?” 

Tony thinks that he would have choked if he was sober, but right now he’s so high that Bruce’s question doesn’t seem the slightest bit strange to him. “I don’t really know,” Tony says. “How come?”

Bruce runs a hand through his hair, sitting all the way up. “Okay, I— I really like this… girl. A whole lot. And I kind of really want to kiss her at some point in the future, but I’ve never really… kissed anyone before. Ever. So I have no idea what to do.”

It takes Tony a minute to process what Bruce is saying. He feels a familiar pain in his chest, and it’s not from his heart condition. He feels sick to his stomach when Bruce mentions liking someone, specifically a girl. Fuck. 

Well, he’s high and nothing really matters right now. 

“Well, if you want, you could practice on me.”

_ Wow. _ Bold move, Tony. Nice.

Bruce’s half-lidded eyes widen. “P-practice? On you?” He manages to choke out past his initial shock at the offer. “Are… are you sure about that?”

“Only if you’re okay with it,” Tony says, nodding. Oh, God, he wants to kiss Bruce so badly. He doesn’t care about anything else. He just wants to kiss him. This kind of torture can’t be good for his already-sick heart. “I’m a pretty good kisser, so I’ve been told. It’ll be good practice. I’ll show you the ropes.”

Bruce hesitates, and Tony thinks he’s about to get shut down. Surprisingly, though, Bruce nods.

Bruce  _ nods _ .

Holy shit. He’s going to kiss Bruce Banner, stoned out of his mind, on a balcony at night. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

_ (Pepper.) _

Tony scoots closer to Bruce, setting his hands on his knees. “You sure?” He asks because he’s an idiot and apparently doesn’t know when to take what’s given to him when he’s high as balls. 

“Yeah,” Bruce nods again. “Yeah, I am.”

Tony nods in return before his eyes flicker down to Bruce’s lips. They’re already ever so slightly parted, his eyes trained on Tony’s own lips.

_ (Pepper.) _

“Just… let me know if you want me to stop,” Tony says. He leans forward, a hand going up to rest on Bruce’s shoulder, fingers brushing at the base of his neck. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous about this— He wants to kiss Bruce so badly it hurts, so badly he can’t believe he’s never realized before now how much he wants to kiss him and to just  _ keep _ kissing him. To be able to kiss him whenever he wants. 

_ (Pepper.) _

Tony’s lips ghost over Bruce’s, the remaining space between them a painful reminder of how close Tony is to him. He hesitates, his eyes briefly flickering up to look Bruce in the eyes before closing and gently pressing his lips to Bruce’s. 

Holy shit.

Oh, fuck, his lips are  _ so _ soft. His upper lip is trapped between Tony’s, and he’s pretty sure that he feels Bruce melt under his fingertips. He pulls away just barely, tilting his head and glancing at Bruce’s flushed face in the low light. He looks positively beautiful and Tony feels a surge of emotion well up within him, though he doesn’t know what it means. He leans forward again and slides his hand up Bruce’s neck, resting his fingers on the back of it, the tips of them just tickling the fuzz on the back of Bruce’s head. He feels Bruce’s hand come to a shaky rest on his thigh. Tony almost smiles against Bruce’s lips. He knows that they’re going at a rather slow pace, but Bruce is doing a spectacular job so far. 

When the kissing stops, it’s because Bruce is pulling away. Tony panics for a moment because he thinks he did something wrong, but the moment he sees the concerned expression on Bruce’s face, he knows what’s going on. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Bruce stutters. “You probably— you probably think this is weird. And I’m probably not doing a very good job.”

Tony didn’t realize how warm he was until now. He can’t stop looking at Bruce, looking at the freckles on his face and the way that his glasses are just the slightest bit crooked and the way his curls fall over his eyes and how his lips are just so  _ soft _ and  _ inviting— _

Fuck it.

“Oh, God, Bruce—” Tony reaches forward, one hand moving to grip the front of Bruce’s shirt and the other moving to the back of his head, pulling him forward and practically crushing his lips to his. He hears Bruce let out a small whimper of what Tony wants to believe is desperation, one of his own hands reaching forward to tightly grip Tony’s shoulder, balling his fist in the material of his shirt. It’s a little bit sloppy but that’s okay because all that’s in Tony’s mind is  _ BruceBruceBruce  _ and he doesn’t care about anything else except for  _ BruceBruceBruce _ and the way that his lips feel against his own. He tastes like weed and something else; something sweet. 

At some point, Tony ends up on Bruce’s lap, straddling him and running both his hands through Bruce’s hair. Their breathing is heavy and Tony’s tongue is gliding along Bruce’s lower lip, Bruce’s hands pressed to the small of Tony’s back and oh  _ God _ it takes all of Tony’s self-control not to moan and grind his hips down just from that simple touch. Just as he bites down on Bruce’s lip, completely intending on biting other places later, a droplet of water lands on his arm. 

He doesn’t realize what this means at first, until another droplet hits him, then another, and then they’re coming faster and faster. He reluctantly pulls away from Bruce to look up at the sky, raindrops falling on his face.

“Shit,” he mutters. He drops his head onto Bruce’s shoulder, face pressed into the crook of his neck. “We gotta go inside. Don’t wanna get wet again.”

Bruce laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

As they stand up and head inside before the rain can really start coming down on them, Tony thinks that he wishes he hadn’t been high for that. He already can’t recall most of it; only that he really really enjoyed it and Bruce only wanted him to do it so he could practice for kissing someone entirely different than Tony Stark. He feels an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over him, forcing the jealousy to make room. He doesn’t know what to do.

As Bruce goes to sit on Tony’s bed, Tony changes into sweatpants and a T-shirt with a furrowed brow, his mind still trained on his doubts. When he walks out of his closet and sees Bruce sitting on the edge of his bed, an uncertain expression on his face, Tony blinks.

“Um,” Bruce begins. His eyes are still half-lidded and bloodshot, and Tony still feels very high. “Thank you for doing that. I… didn’t expect to ever do that with you. With a guy, I mean. But it, uh, did help. At least I have an idea of what to expect now.”

Tony bites his tongue. “Yeah. No problem.” 

Bruce looks at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you mad at me?”

Tony wants to say yes. He wants to be mad at Bruce for making him feel like this, for making him feel like his heart is failing and like he’s not good enough. It’s not a feeling that Tony wants to get used to. But he knows that it’s really not Bruce’s fault. Tony offered, Tony kissed Bruce even though he’s still dating Pepper, and Tony is overthinking everything. He doesn’t like Bruce. He just likes the idea of Bruce. Because that makes sense, right?

Tony sighs, putting a tired but seemingly genuine smile on his face for Bruce. “No,” he says, sitting down next to Bruce on his bed. “I’m not mad at you, Freckles. I’m glad I was able to help out.”

Bruce looks down at his hands. “Okay,” he says softly. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Tony laughs. “‘Course I do.”

They fall asleep on each other that night, Bruce lying on Tony with his head on his chest before the movie even ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IS WHAT YOU ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR well ok maybe not exactly that but. hey, they kissed. writing this literally murdered me bc i just wanted them to fuckin GO AT IT for HOURS but. they have morals. tony's are questionable, but still. morals.
> 
> holy shit comment tho and tell me what u thought bc this is probably one of my fave chapters and also i'm depressed and feeling awful lately and i need some positive and kind words thanks


	17. break ups and improv speeches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony finds out that Pepper isn't as straight as they both thought and Bruce... sort of? Asks Tony on a date? But not really?

Not even a week later, Tony breaks up with Pepper.

The guilt had been killing him. He’d kissed Bruce, and although he’s still in denial that he actually really likes Bruce as more than a friend, he knows that whatever romantic feelings he had for Pepper have disappeared. He still loves her dearly. She’s one of his closest friends, after all. He tells her that he can’t keep calling her his girlfriend, though.

“I get it,” Pepper says, a sad smile on her face. They’re sat on the front porch steps of Tony’s house. “I do, Tony. Don’t worry.”

Tony swallows. “Are you sure?"

Pepper chuckles. “Yes, I’m sure. Actually, now that we’re being honest with each other, I kind of think I might like that girl I told you guys about. Maria Hill?”

Tony almost chokes on his own spit. “I thought you were straight! Not that it’s a bad thing that you’re  _ not _ straight, I just—”

“I thought I was, too,” Pepper says, smiling in amusement. “But… I don’t really know. I started having the same feelings for her as I did for you when we first started dating, you know? So I know what you mean when you say that the romantic attraction just isn’t there anymore.”

Tony holds his breath for a moment, both relieved and also feeling shittier by the second. He  _ has _ to tell Pepper what he did.

“I kissed Bruce,” he says quickly. Pepper blinks.

“What? When?” 

“A few days ago.” Tony sets his elbows on his knees, sighing. “God, I’m sorry, Pepps. He said that he’d never kissed anyone and he apparently really likes this girl and he wants to kiss her and so I offered to show him how and we were really high, so it just made sense at the time—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Pepper says, holding up a finger. “You’re telling me that Bruce told you he likes a girl, and he wanted to know how to kiss her, so  _ you _ kissed him to show him how to do it?”

Tony pauses. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“Because it is stupid!” Pepper slaps his arm. “That’s not how you handle that situation at all, Tony. Sure, maybe you give him some  _ verbal _ pointers, but you don’t offer to physically demonstrate it to the supposedly straight friend of yours! What the hell?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just. Were you guys okay after that? Like, you weren’t weird, right?”

“Not really,” Tony says. He can’t believe how well Pepper is taking this. “I mean, he apologized for it because he thought he pressured me into it, but still. We watched a movie after that and things were fine.” He looks at Pepper. “Are you seriously not mad at me?”

“What?” Pepper blinks. “Oh, no, I’m pissed. You kissed someone while you were still dating me, and for a really stupid reason. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you told me at all and I respect the fact that you can own up to your mistake, but I’m still mad and I probably will be for a while.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

“So after we’re done here and I ask you one more question, we’re not going to talk to each other for at least a week. Okay? Because I  _ am _ hurt and angry and I need some time to just feel hurt and angry.” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

“Understandable,” Tony says. “You can kick my ass later if you want. Whenever you feel like it. In fact, I’ll welcome it.”

“Later,” Pepper says, shaking her head. “My question is this: are you going to do something about your super-obvious crush on Bruce?”

Tony feels his cheeks warm. “Who ever said I have a crush on Bruce?”

“No one did,” Pepper shrugs. “It’s just really,  _ painfully _ obvious.”

“I don’t have a crush on him. That sounds stupid. I don’t have a thing for Bruce, okay? He’s my friend. He’s my straight friend who definitely wouldn’t like me even if I did like him.” Tony feels sick. “So no, I’m not going to do anything about it. Because there’s nothing to do anything about.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Tony. Okay. Whatever you say.” She stands up and Tony follows her lead. “Well, I’ll see you in school tomorrow. But I probably won’t talk to you.”

Tony nods. 

As she drives away, he can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

 

Two and a half weeks pass and it’s well into November before Pepper decides to talk to Tony again. It kills Tony not to be able to talk to her. Word quickly spreads around school that he and Pepper have broken up, and soon Tony is being bombarded by flirting girls and all he can do is pretend to be interested in them before shooing them away. His feigned interest isn’t very convincing, however, and lots of the girls end up leaving with a scowl on their face or a pout. Tony can’t bring himself to care. 

Bruce asks if it’s his fault that Tony and Pepper broke up. Tony tells him no, it’s not his fault, Tony had been feeling like things weren’t exactly right with the two of them for a while. Besides, Pepper apparently has a thing for that Maria girl. If Tony hadn’t broken up with her, Pepper eventually would have dumped him. 

Speech class is more fun with Pepper talking to him again. He gets to help her and Bruce with their speeches and he can poke fun at her for messing up during the impromptus again. And speaking of impromptus, the teacher has just given them one. Tony beams at the idea. Two students stand in front of the class, and they’re given a random letter of the alphabet. The two students have to go back and forth, each only saying one sentence. The first sentence has to start with whatever letter they’re given, and then the second person replies with a sentence that starts with the letter that comes next, and so on and so forth. When they mess up, they sit back down and the next pair goes up. The only letter of the alphabet they don’t have to worry about is X, thank goodness.

Tony watches as several random pairs are sent up one after another, each not lasting very long. It’s fun to watch, though. When it’s Tony’s turn, he’s both surprised and overjoyed that his randomly assigned partner is Bruce. Bruce looks back at him, anxiety clear on his face. Tony shakes his shoulder, grinning. “Don’t worry,” he tells Bruce. “You got this.  _ We  _ got this.”

Bruce nods. Standing at the front of the class, Tony can see Bruce’s shoulders shaking. The teacher looks at the two of them.

“Alright, you two,” she says. “Let’s start with… B.”

Immediately, Tony is all over that. “ **B** ruce enjoys science almost as much as I do.”

Bruce freezes up for a moment, eyes wide and face turning red. “ **C** - **C** ontrary to what you believe, I actually like science more than you.”

Tony smirks. “ **D** are I say you would marry science?”

“ **E** ven if science were a human, I wouldn’t go so far as to propose to it.” Bruce looks at Tony with determination, his mouth twitching upward into a smile.

“ **F** antastic is what that is, because I want to propose to it!” Tony declares.

“ **G** et your traitorous face away from me, you heathen!”

Bruce seems to be becoming more confident by the second. “ **H** ow dare you speak to me that way?”

It’s Bruce’s turn to smirk. “ **I** can do whatever I want to do, Tony.”

“ **J** ust give up with this speech and let me win.”

“ **K** illing me slowly is what you’re doing by dragging this out.”

Tony almost laughs. “ **L** et me remind you that I’m the one who helped you get better at public speaking in the first place!”

“ **M** aybe so, but that doesn’t mean I can’t beat you where you’re your most comfortable.”

“ **N** othing can beat me when I’m in the zone, Brucey.”

“ **O** h, we’ll see about that.” Bruce winks. 

“ **P** lease don’t taunt me,” Tony says.

“ **Q** uit assuming that you like science more than me, then!”

“ **R** eally getting tired of this conversation, if I’m being honest with you.” Tony fake yawns.

“ **S** hall we change the subject, then?”

“ **T** hank you for humoring me, but what should we change the subject to?”

“ **U** nderstanding how coincidental it is that  _ we _ got paired together for this speech.” Bruce gestures between the two of them. Tony glances over at the teacher and he swears that he sees her make eye contact with Pepper.

“ **V** ery true, that seems a bit strange.” Tony nods.

“ **W** ould you have wanted another partner, Tony?”

“ **Y** ou know that you’re the best possible partner I could have.”

“ **Z** ip your lips shut before you flatter me too much!” 

“Back to A!” The teacher chimes in. Tony grins wider.

“ **A** ren’t you happy that we got paired together, though?”

“ **B** etter than getting paired with Jerry in the back.” Bruce gives Tony a cocky grin of his own. Damn, he’s getting good at this.

“ **C** ome on, be nice to Jerry.”

“ **D** on’t try to change the subject, Stark.”

“ **E** ven if we were given the choice to pick different partners, would you still have picked me?” 

“ **F** or sure!”

“ **G** et outta here with all that fake admiration.”

“ **H** ow would you know that it’s fake?”

“ **I** know because you and I always banter about everything and  _ that’s  _ our way of showing that we care!” Tony pokes Bruce’s chest.

“ **J** ust believe me when I say that I still would have picked you.”

“ **K** issing my ass a little, aren’t you?”

“ **L** et me kiss something else, then!”

“ **M** y mouth?”

“ **N** ot before you take me out on a date first.”

“ **O** h, what kind of date?”

“ **P** retty sure the implications behind my suggestion are clear, Tony.”

“ **Q** uickly drop all your plans for tomorrow night, then, because I’m taking you out to dinner.”

Before Bruce can retaliate, the bell rings. The class is silent.

From the back of the room, someone whispers, “Did… did they just start dating?” Tony doesn’t hear it. He grins, reaching over and putting an arm around Bruce’s shoulders before looking out at the class. 

“Thank you all for watching, and a special thanks to Jerry in the back for being a part of our little skit.” Tony takes a bow, dragging Bruce down with him. The class actually claps, but when Tony looks back up, Pepper is just staring at them with an expression Tony really can’t place for the life of him. She’s not  _ mad _ , really, but she looks like she’s trying not to explode. The teacher makes eye contact with her again and shrugs. Tony decides to ask her about that later.

As the rest of the class gathers their things, Tony and Bruce make their way back to their seats to do the same. Bruce is grinning like an idiot and it makes Tony’s heart swell with happiness and pride. 

“So,” Bruce says, shoving a binder into his backpack, “you really gonna take me out to get food? Because you still haven’t gotten me that Thai food yet.”

“Oh, definitely,” Tony says, nodding. “We’ll get takeout and just go back to my place. I was wondering if you could help me out with some stuff in the lab.”

Bruce smiles. “Sounds good.”

“You two did a really good job up there,” Pepper says.

“Yeah, Bruce is getting a lot better with this kind of thing,” Tony says with a proud grin. “All my tutoring has been paying off for both of you!”

“Thank God, otherwise I’d be screwed,” Bruce laughs. “I would have bombed the shit out of this class.”

“Things got a little subtexty up there, didn’t they?” Pepper raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at her lips. Tony narrows his eyes. “Most of the class probably thinks you two are an item now.”

Bruce’s face goes pink. “We were just joking around,” he says. “I mean, sure, we’re going to get food, but it’s not actually a date. Right, Tony?”

Tony hesitates, and Pepper says, “ _ Right _ , Tony?” She looks at him pointedly and he scowls at her before smiling cheerily. “Right! Not a date, just getting food and working on science stuff.”

Bruce seems oblivious to the situation. “Alright, well, I’ll see you guys sixth period.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, waves, and is gone.

Pepper grabs Tony’s ear. “What the  _ hell _ do you think you’re doing?” She hisses. “You just asked him out! In front of the whole class!”

“Okay, ow, ow!” Tony glares at her, reaching up and grabbing her wrist in order to pry it away from his ear. “I did not! It was a joke, Pep! Jeez, if I’d known you would be this jealous—”

“Ohoho, I am  _ not _ jealous,” Pepper says. “The complete opposite, actually. I’m still mad at you!”

“I thought you were okay now!” Tony furrows his brow, slumping over. “Seriously, what the hell is your problem?”

“I’m mad because you won’t do anything about your little situation with Bruce,” she snaps. “You two are the densest idiots I’ve ever met, I swear. I had Miss Weeks pair you two together for this speech because I knew you would get all up in each others business and end up flirting. But what happened? You  _ literally  _ asked him out on a date and you’re both denying that it’s actually a date. I can’t believe this.”

Tony drags his hand down his face in frustration. “Pepper,  _ he doesn’t like me like that.  _ He’s straight, remember? He’s only told me a hundred times.”

“Okay, but do  _ you _ like him?” Pepper asks, eyebrows raised. 

Tony sets his jaw. “No, I don’t. Not like that.” 

_ Yes I do. _

“Christ,” Pepper sighs. “Whatever. We’ll talk about this later. We’re gonna be late to class.”

Tony really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to talk about this later, but he knows he can’t avoid it. He can’t stop thinking about how much he wants to remember more of the kiss, but he’d been so high that it all kind of blurs together. He can’t believe that he and Bruce went right back to normal almost immediately after it. There’s no awkwardness between them, no hesitancy when they hang out together and no doubts in their minds that they’re okay. Yes, Tony thinks about the kiss a lot and he wishes that he could do it again, but that doesn’t stop him from having a stable relationship with Bruce. This is worse than when he fell for Pepper.

For now, though, Tony can only wait and see what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing the speech was SO MUCH FUN you have NO IDEA
> 
> anyway please please comment!! i'm really grateful to everyone who left comments on the last chapter it means a lot <3 also come say hi to me on tumblr if u want!! i'm queerstarks on there


	18. pacemakers and bike thievery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony's heart finally breaks under the stress of everything, and Bruce steals his bike.

When Tony was little—before he met Bruce—his heart wasn’t very strong. It fluttered a lot and it didn’t beat fast enough. When he was seven, he woke up to feel his neck pulsing and was very lightheaded. The heart palpitations told him that something was extremely wrong, and less than an hour later he was in the ER, an external pacemaker attached to him until they could begin the surgery to put an internal pacemaker below his collarbone. He was told that the battery life of the pacemaker he was given when he was seven would last anywhere from five to ten years. Every year he has two check ups to make sure the pacemaker is still in good condition. The first one lasted five years before he had to get it replaced. The one he has now has lasted about six years without fail. He’s due for another check up in December. He knows that if the battery were to die, his heart would fail and he would be, to put it bluntly, fucked.

It’s never been something he worried about too much because of how long the batteries generally last. They last at  _ least  _ five years, and then Tony knows he has to really pay attention to it. But he doesn’t worry about it all that much since he feels that he generally has okay luck when it comes to things like this. The thing he is and always will be afraid of, though, is pacemaker syndrome. It’s a possibility that his pacemaker could simply just… malfunction. Not die, just royally fuck up. The battery could be completely fine, but the pacemaker itself goes haywire and stops working correctly. That could happen at any point in time and the doctors can’t tell if something is wrong with it until something actually goes wrong. 

When Tony wakes up from a nap after school the first week of December and finds that his heart is fluttering in his chest and his throat feels like it’s swollen and he tries to stand and he’s dizzy he’s dizzy he’s  _ dizzy _ , his brain starts to panic. This hasn’t happened since he was seven, oh God, what is he supposed to do? He has no idea if his mom  _ or _ his dad are home and he could be fucked for all he knows. But he figures that he might as well give this a shot.

Stumbling over to the lightswitch by the door, Tony presses the emergency button on it and hears a loud beeping echo throughout the mansion, a robotic woman’s voice saying Tony’s name over and over again. He wonders if someone will hear it, if even one of the maids will come to his aid, or if this is the end for him. Even with his scattered thoughts, as he attempts to stay standing, he thinks about how sudden this is and how everything was just fine this morning. He’d gone to school, he’d talked to Pepper and Bruce and he’d aced a physics test he helped Pepper study for. He got in trouble with one of the teachers for having his feet on the desk. And now, all of a fucking sudden, his heart is failing and he’s getting closer and closer to death. For fuck’s sake, it’s beautiful outside! Snow is falling and the sun is just starting to set and he should be outside spending time with Pepper and Bruce, throwing dangerously tightly packed snowballs at each other at close range, not inside going into cardiac arrest. What did he do to deserve this?

In one last effort to get some help, he sends Bruce a text that he hopes is readable, telling him that he needs him to call 911 and send them to Tony’s house because he can’t get to a phone without collapsing. By the time he actually makes it to the door and stumbles out of his room and sees his mother rushing towards him with the phone against her ear, her voice panicked and urgent, he’s barely conscious. 

Damn. If he’d known this would happen today, he would have skipped the nap.

 

Tony wakes up with a headache, three electrodes stuck to his upper body, and two pacing pads on his chest. 

_ Okay, not the weirdest thing to ever happen to me, _ he thinks.  _ But why? _

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice startles him, his eyes snapping away from his chest and over to where Bruce is standing up from one of the chairs in the room. The hospital room. Oh, shit, that’s right. He remembers now. “Hey,” Bruce says quietly, his hand smoothing over Tony’s hair. His brow is furrowed and he looks like he’s been crying. “How do you feel?”

Tony swallows, taking a moment to look around him. The blinds on the windows are pulled shut and only one of the lights in the corner of the room is on, and Tony has two pacing pads sticking to his chest that are attached to an external pacemaker sitting on a small table next to him. He checks to make sure he’s not dead or paralyzed by wiggling his fingers, then raising his right hand and setting it on Bruce’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze in thanks. He smiles.

“I’m fine,” he says. “You’re the one who looks like he’s not okay. Were you crying over me? Seriously?”

Bruce offers a strangled laugh and Tony sees his eyes water again. “I-I’m sorry, I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

“Stop crying, I’m not dead yet!” Tony shakes his shoulder before letting his hand drop. “What happened after I sent you that text, by the way? Because I basically blacked out right after that.”

“Yeah,” Bruce swipes at his eyes, sniffling and sitting on the edge of Tony’s bed. “I got the text, freaked out, booked it out of my house and made it to yours in like, record time. They were carrying you out on a stretcher right as I got there. Your mom was right next to you and when I stopped her to ask her what was going on, she told me that your heart was… was failing, Tony. And I-I wanted to come with her in the ambulance but they would only let one person in there.” 

“So how did you get here, then?” Tony asks.

Bruce scratches the back of his neck. “I may or may not have stolen your bike.” 

Tony blinks. Then, he laughs. “Holy shit, Bruce! You must really like me to bike all the way to the hospital.”

Bruce blushes. “It’s not even that far away! You live close to everything.”

Tony shrugs. “Well,” he says, feeling Bruce run his fingers through his hair again, “thank you for staying here. With me. Um, where’s my mom? And does Pepper know what’s going on?”

“Yeah, you had your phone in your pocket when they brought you here so I used it to call her and tell her what happened,” he says. “But, um, I don’t really know how much she got because I was kind of crying. A lot.”

Tony feels a twinge of guilt. “Shit, Bruce. I’m sorry I scared you. But come on, did you really have so little faith in me?” He pokes Bruce’s stomach, making him squirm.

“I couldn’t help but worry!” Bruce flicks Tony’s forehead. “You’re my best friend, you idiot. Of course I was scared.”

Tony feels a grin spread slowly across his face at Bruce’s words. Fucking  _ finally _ he says it. “Best friend, huh? When did you decide on that?”

Bruce rolls his eyes, his face still pink. “When I came to your house with a broken nose,” he says. “I figured that my best friend should be someone who I can go to for anything, and… yeah. Sorry, that’s like. Really corny.”

“I don’t even care, I’m just glad you finally realized that I’m still your best friend,” Tony says. He can’t get himself to stop grinning like a moron. 

“Here.” Bruce shoves Tony’s phone in his face. “Just call Pepper already. She’ll want to know that you’re awake.”

Tony braces himself for the scolding he knows he’s about to receive. Pepper picks up almost immediately, thinking that it’s Bruce and asking if anything had happened with Tony. When she hears Tony’s voice, she instantly starts yelling in his ear about how much he scared her and never to do that again and how lucky he is that she’s not there or else she’d kill him herself. Tony has to hold the phone away from his ear to avoid going deaf. When she’s finally done scolding him, he can hear her breathing hard through the phone and it takes him a moment to realize that she’s crying. 

“Jesus, Pep, not you too,” Tony says in exasperation. “I’m okay! You should be happy, not crying. I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you, here.”

“I  _ am _ happy,” she tells him. “I just— When Bruce called and I could barely make out what he was saying because he sounded so goddamn panicked and all I heard was your name and something about your heart, I was just as scared as him, okay? I couldn’t even talk to my aunt, I had to go be by myself because I couldn’t stop crying. And now I’m just happy you’re okay.”

Tony chuckles. “Gotta love having a fatal heart condition.” 

“What if the thing with the pacemaker happens again?” She asks. “What if it just… randomly stops working again?”

“It’s ridiculously rare that that happens, Pep,” Tony says. “I just got unlucky. Seriously. It’ll be fine. And if it happens again, then I’ll just be taken back here and they’ll fix me up right as ever. Okay?”

Tony hears Pepper sigh. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Ugh, listen, I gotta go. My parents want to know what happened and I  _ do _ need to spend time with my family, so…”

“I get it,” Tony assures her. “I’ll see you when you get back, okay? Come see me tomorrow if you get a chance.”

Pepper tells him that she definitely will, and when she hangs up, Tony melts into the bed. Bruce sets his phone off to the side for him. Tony asks him how long he’s been in here and Bruce says that it’s only been a little over an hour. Strange, Tony thinks. He feels like he’d been knocked out for at least a day. 

It’s not long before the doctor finds him awake and Tony has to listen to him explain how the pacemaker in his chest needs to be replaced with a brand new one but the hospital staff is so overwhelmed with surgeries at the moment that they’re going to need to put it off until tomorrow. Tony doesn’t mind this as long as he doesn’t die before they can implant it. They tell him that he has nothing to worry about, if anything were to go wrong with the external pacemaker attached to him, they would know immediately. Tony asks to see his mother once they’re all done explaining everything to him.

His mom thanks the doctor on the way in, remaining calm until she sees how  _ awake _ and  _ alive _ Tony is. She lets out a long sigh of relief before rushing over and taking Tony’s face in her hands, kissing his forehead and telling him how glad she is that he’s okay. When she tells him that that she was scared, it’s all Tony can do not to groan in frustration. He  _ knows _ that everyone was scared. He gets it. He freaked everyone out. He doesn’t need to be reminded constantly that he’s at least a little bit of a burden. Oh, well. Bruce and Pepper and his mom are all happy he’s here, all going to continue to smile for him, and they’ll still be here when he gets out of surgery tomorrow. He can’t wait to leave and do absolutely nothing with his friends.

Bruce spends the rest of visiting hours with Tony, just talking to him about anything other than his heart. Tony finds a decent channel to watch on the television and for a while, it’s just him and Bruce and his mother watching TV together. He likes to listen to Bruce and his mother talk, even if she does tell him things Tony really wishes she wouldn’t tell him about his early life. He falls asleep at one point, and when he wakes up, Bruce is gone and it’s just his mom sitting there reading a book. 

“Hey, where’d Bruce go?” He asks blearily. 

“Visiting hours are over, dear,” Maria says, closing her book. “They allowed me to stay since I’m the mother, but he had to go. I gave him a ride back to his neighborhood. For some reason he didn’t want me dropping him off in his driveway.”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh, yeah. The walls on his house are like, paper thin. He probably didn’t want your car waking his dad up.”

Maria smiles. “Sweet boy,” she says. For a moment, she’s quiet, staring down at her book in thought. “He cares about you a lot, you know.”

Tony blinks, caught off guard by the sudden statement. He crosses his arms and looks down. “How do you know?”

“The way that he looks at you,” Maria chuckles. “You might as well have hung the moon and the stars yourself, in his eyes, Tony. He  _ biked _ here to see you, to make sure you were okay. He held your hand for a long time, too. I pretended not to see. My point is, that boy cares about you more than you realize. And I know you care about him, too. A lot more than you’re letting yourself believe.”

“You’ve been talking to Pepper, haven’t you?” Tony says dryly. “All she seems to care about now is getting me to ‘admit’ that I like Bruce. Which has no foundation, by the way.”

“It has a lot of foundation, honey,” Maria says, obviously unconvinced. Damn it. “And she cares so much because, well, you more or less broke up with her because of Bruce. You developed feelings for him and realized that he was better for you than she was. That’s all. She just wants you to be happy.” 

Tony groans. “I  _ am _ happy! Happy as can be! I love the fact that Bruce told me he has a crush on someone else— especially a  _ girl! _ It’s great. It’s awesome, Mom. I’m just happy that he considers me his best friend.” He puts his face in his hands, sighing dejectedly. 

“Oh, sweetie.” He hears Maria get up and walk over to him, feels her sitting down on the edge of his bed. Her hand is on his back, rubbing slow circles into it. 

“It hurts a lot,” Tony practically whimpers. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t want to like him anymore, Mom. If I knew he was bi or gay or something I would be a little more okay with it because then at least I have a  _ chance,  _ but he’s told me several fucking times that he’s straight, so.” 

Maria lifts Tony’s face up, pushing the hair out of his eyes and looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Tony, if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you will survive this. I know you say that Bruce claims to only be interested in girls, but the way he looks and acts around you, I have to say that I disagree. You’ll find out soon enough. Things will be okay. I promise.” She kisses his forehead.

Tony wants to believe her, he does. But if he can’t believe in himself, how is he supposed to believe in others?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN IT it's christmas eve and we haven't even gotten to the christmas chapter(s) yet. ah, well, to live is to suffer. especially for tony. poor kid.
> 
> anyway! will update soon as long as u guys comment! i'm still having an Awful Fucking Time now that im on new meds for bipolar so they're kinda messing with me a little. lemme know what u guys thought.


	19. assholes and birthday presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is a dick and Tony is very protective of Bruce, but not so much of himself. That's Bruce's job.

The surgery goes off without a hitch and Tony emerges from it with a smile on his face as he hugs Pepper. She’d shown up in the middle of the surgery and waited for Tony to get out. She pokes the spot beneath his collarbone where the newly implanted pacemaker is, aggressively telling it not to pull the same shit the last one did. Bruce is there as well, and Tony can see the beginning of a bruise near the base of his neck where his dad probably hit him for being out late last night. Tony is careful not to touch that shoulder.

Tony will admit, he’s scared of what Pepper said yesterday on the phone. He’s afraid of the pacemaker failing again. But he’s always been afraid of that. Now he knows that it  _ can  _ happen to him and he really doesn’t like knowing that. 

After spending the morning under the knife and the afternoon with his friends, Tony goes to sleep that night wondering when he’s going to be able to stop worrying about this. 

The following day at school, about three minutes before the bell is about to ring for third period, Tony finds Bruce outside of the bathrooms with a bit of a...  _ problem _ hovering over him. Tony scowls at the sight of Loki, an Icelandic exchange student, leaning over Bruce with a cocky grin on his face. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that Bruce looks intensely uncomfortable. Bruce’s arms are wrapped around his midsection, keeping his head down and just generally showing signs of being physically  _ and _ emotionally closed off. Loki just seems to be enjoying it, though, because when Tony hears Bruce ask him to please leave him alone, all Loki does is lift Bruce’s chin up with his finger, saying something about how he couldn’t possibly leave someone as cute as Bruce alone for long. Tony fumes. Who does this guy think he is? Bruce is  _ obviously _ uncomfortable and also, that’s  _ Tony’s _ friend. Loki doesn’t get to pull this kind of shit with Tony around.

With a calm expression forced onto his face, Tony saunters over to where Loki has Bruce backed into a wall, neither of them noticing how Tony is approaching. He butts in in the middle of Loki saying something about how pretty Bruce’s freckles are, and while Tony has to agree, he also won’t stand for that. 

“Hey, babe,” Tony says, casually slipping an arm around Bruce’s waist and pulling him close. Bruce lets out a small squeak of surprise, caught off guard by Tony’s sudden appearance and sudden… physical closeness. “Who are you talking to?”

Loki leans back, the grin disappearing from his face almost instantly. “Stark. I did not know that you two were an item. Bruce did not tell me of such a thing.”

“Yeah, Bruce gets a little tongue tied when it comes to talking to new people,” Tony says calmly. His expression hardens. “Especially when they’re too close to him.”

Loki takes a step back. “Well. It surprises me that Bruce settled for such a… waste of space, but I will not come between you. He shall come to his senses eventually.” 

Tony feels Bruce stiffen in his hold, one of Bruce’s hands going down to tightly grip Tony’s hand on his waist. He practically growls at Loki and Tony can’t help but feel a little rush of arousal. 

“Yeah, okay,” Tony scoffs. He watches as Loki walks away, and once he’s out of their sight, Tony removes his arm from around Bruce’s waist in order to stand in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders, looking at him in concern. “Are you okay? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

Bruce is still glaring at the corner Loki just disappeared around. “No,” he says through his teeth. “Unless you count being unnecessarily close to me as something.” He relaxes a bit, looking down before tensing up again and looking back up at Tony. “He called you a waste of space.”

Tony blinks. “Yeah? So?”

“He had no right to call you that,” Bruce growls. “It’s not true. You’re not a waste of space.”

Tony smiles (albeit a little sadly) and sighs. “Okay, Bruce. It’s just Loki. What he says doesn’t mean anything to me, alright? Rock of Ages is nothin’ compared to me.” He ruffles Bruce’s hair, making the other boy relax and cast Tony an annoyed smile. “Hope you don’t mind that I pretended to be your boyfriend for a hot second. And let me tell you, it was a  _ hot _ second.” He winks.

Bruce rolls his eyes, grinning now. “It’s fine, honestly,” he says, beginning to walk. “People already kind of think we’re dating because of the stunt we pulled in speech class that one time. I just hope that you deny it when people ask.”

Tony feels a pang of sadness in his chest. “Duh,” he says. “‘Course I deny it. It’d be shitty of me to lie about something like that. Especially with how aggressively straight you are.” He elbows him.

Bruce elbows him back. “Hey, I’m not  _ aggressively _ straight. Just… straight.”

“Gross.” Tony makes a face, watching as Bruce laughs and bumps into him just to knock him around a bit. 

God, this sucks.

 

Just before fourth period starts, Tony decides that he really doesn’t want to attend that particular class and would much rather spend it in the cafeteria with Pepper and Bruce. He, Bruce, and Pepper are all in separate lunches, so he goes to Pepper’s first and waits for Bruce’s lunch to start afterward. It sucks, he thinks, that they all have separate lunches because while he still has a group of semi-friends to sit with at lunch, he wishes that his two closest friends were there. He doesn’t feel like dealing with his friends asking him all about what happened because God knows word has travelled. He’s going to get asked by other people, he knows this, but he’d rather be with Pepper and Bruce while people are harassing him. Bruce especially makes him feel safe. He wonders if Bruce feels the same way about him.

Pepper’s lunch is spent with her, Natasha, Clint, and Maria. Tony can see the obvious way that Maria flirts with Pepper and the way Pepper seems to be so into it makes Tony grin. He has to fight back laughter several times just because Maria says something that makes Pepper’s face go red. It’s positively awesome. When that lunch period is over, Tony hangs out by the cafeteria to wait for Bruce. He scans the crowd of students walking into the caf, looking for Bruce. When he spots him, he waves him down with a bright smile. Bruce casts Tony a bemused smile upon seeing him, speed-walking over to him. 

“Tony? What are you doing here?” Bruce asks as Tony follows him to where he regularly sits. Bruce sits down and Tony follows suit. Bruce apparently sits with Thor, the other Icelandic exchange student, on days when his brother Loki is absent. Tony wonders how someone so mean can be related to someone so nice. Thor’s a little dim when it comes to American pop culture, but he’s sweet. Today, though, Thor is nowhere to be found. Bruce sits alone. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Do I care? No. I might get a detention, but… eh.” He shrugs, leaning over and slinging an arm over Bruce’s shoulders. He’s careful to avoid the bruise he knows is on his shoulder. “Do you even have a lunch?” 

“The school pays for it,” Bruce says. “I’m just not hungry right now. But seriously, you’re gonna get in trouble if you don’t go back to class soon.” 

“Like I said, I don’t ca—” 

“Hi, Tony?” The boy in question looks up at the sound of his name, meeting the eyes of three girls he’s never talked to before. He tilts his head.

“Uh, hi, ladies,” he says. “What can I do for you?”

The middle girl beams excitedly. “Oh, we were all just wondering if you and Bruce are really dating? Like, if that’s just a rumor or if it’s true.”

Tony sighs, chuckling bitterly. God, why do people have to keep reminding him that he’s  _ not _ dating Bruce? “Either Loki told you or you heard about our skit in senior comp.”

“Both, actually,” the girl on the left says. 

“That,” the girl on the right says, “and you’re both really, like, touchy-feely with each other all the time. We thought maybe it wasn’t true until we saw how you two acted with each other. So are you dating or not?”

Tony glances over at Bruce to see him frozen where he sits, his eyes glued to the table in front of them. “Nah,” Tony says with a shake of his head. “We’re both single as hell. Just don’t tell Loki, okay? He has a habit of throwing his attention where it doesn’t belong.”

All three of the girls nod vigorously. “Oh, yeah! No problem.” The middle girl looks between Tony and Bruce before leaning in closer to Tony and not-so-quietly whispering, “You could do better than that anyway.”

Tony is usually pretty calm when girls swarm him during school or when boys ask him if he wants to hang out just so they’ll look cool. He normally brushes them off politely or lies to them to make them feel better about themselves. The truth is, he just can’t be bothered with that kind of thing. He’s doesn’t care about how much the girls want to date him and he doesn’t care about how badly the boys want to be his friend just to boost their image. He always manages to keep his cool with that kind of thing because he  _ just can’t be bothered. _

Right now, though, Tony is just fucking done. 

“Listen, that’s  _ my  _ Bruce you’re talking about,” Tony says, pushing himself to his feet in order to be at eye-level with the girls. “I’m not dating him, but I would choose him over any of you in less than a  _ second.  _ Now get the fuck out of my face.” He glares at them, smiling numbly as the girls step back in shock. They look beyond offended and truth be told, Tony is glad. Anyone who insults Bruce deserves to have Tony lay into them. “Bye-bye!” Tony waves at them. They haughtily spin on their heels and retreat, shaking their hips a little too much for Tony’s liking. He shakes his head and sits back down. “I’d like them if they weren’t assholes.”

Bruce doesn’t respond.

Tony looks at him, trying to make eye contact. “Hey, Glasses, come on,” he says with a smile. “You know that what they said is bullshit. If I’m not a waste of space, then you’re the better option. No one could do better than you.”

Bruce looks up a bit, giving Tony a weak, unconvincing smile. “You don’t have to lie like that.”

“Bruce, you would know if I was lying,” Tony says. Under the table, he sets his hand on Bruce’s. “You. Are. The better. Option. Okay? Tell yourself that every morning in the mirror if you have to. No one could do better than you.” He squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Especially whoever that girl is that you have a crush on. Seriously, if she doesn’t make a move soon, then I might.” He winks again, a shit-eating grin on his face. Jeez, this hurts. A lot.

Bruce just chuckles nervously, his hand squeezing Tony’s in return. “If I’m the better option, then why hasn’t she tried to, ah, make a move?” 

Tony pauses. “She’s dense, probably. Doesn’t realize what’s going on. Give her time, she’ll get there. If it’s you, she definitely will.”

Tony selfishly hopes that she doesn’t.

 

Bruce has gotten to the point where he’s so comfortable with Tony, he won’t even tell him before he comes over. He still uses the watch to text Tony to see if he’s at home when he wants to be around him, but occasionally Bruce comes over just to exist somewhere else. Tony’s come home a couple times on the weekend after being out and about with Pepper or by himself to find Bruce talking to his mother or sitting in the kitchen eating or passed out on the sofa in his room with the TV on. 

It’s the day before Bruce’s eighteenth birthday and Tony expects Bruce to have to stay home over the weekend because of that. But on Saturday night when Tony comes back from Pepper’s house (he’s surprised that her mom still allows him to come over) and walks inside to find his mother in the living room working on the last bit of Bruce’s blanket, she turns to him and smiles.

“There’s a little surprise for you up in your room,” she says. She looks at the clock. “Hm. Well, it’s almost midnight. Take this up with you.” She hands Tony the now finished blanket, and Tony looks at her in confusion. She chuckles. “You’re going to want to hold on to it. Trust me.”

Tony gives her a bemused smile before kissing her on the cheek and saying goodnight, heading up to his room. He’s curious to know what this surprise is.

Upon opening his door, the first thing Tony sees is a lump under his covers in his bed. He grins, endeared that Bruce decided to fall asleep in Tony’s bed rather than on the couch. He keeps the lights low so as to not disturb his friend and walks over, setting the blanket on the end of the bed before changing into boxers and a T-shirt. Once he’s changed, he unfolds the blanket and drapes it over Bruce’s sleeping form even though he already has one or two blankets on him. The kid is always cold, anyway. After the blanket settles, Tony crawls up and over the blankets to burrow under them next to Bruce. 

“Tony?” Bruce says quietly. Tony turns over onto his side to find Bruce staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, Freckles,” Tony says with a smile. “Comfy?”

Bruce nods. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take your bed.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I like the company.” Tony reaches up and pulls Bruce’s blanket up higher. “Mom made you something for your birthday.”

Bruce blinks, reaching up and spreading his fingers out over the blanket. He sits up a bit and looks at it, his jaw going slack and brow furrowed. “She made me a blanket?”

Tony shrugs. “Well, you’re always shivering, so… Blanket.”

Bruce bunches his hands up in it, bringing it up and pressing his face into it. “It’s so soft,” he says. “And purple. How’d your mom know my favorite color?”

“I might have mentioned it to her,” Tony says, grinning. “You like it?”

Bruce lays back down, bringing his new blanket up close to his chin and looking at Tony. “I… God, I love it. I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to thank her.” 

“Just say thank you and tell her you were nice and cozy under it while you slept,” Tony says. “I got you something, too, but you won’t get it until later. Like, sometime in January.”

Bruce groans, shoving his face under the blanket. “Tony!” He whines. “You didn’t have to get me anything! You already gave me that watch and the fact that you let me come here whenever I want is basically a gift in and of itself—”

“I know I didn’t have to get you anything,” Tony says, pulling the blanket down from Bruce’s face. “But I wanted to, okay? Seriously.”

Looking at Bruce right now, Tony can’t help but wonder what he’s going to do now that he’s eighteen. He technically doesn’t have to keep living with his dad, but Bruce is so scared of his dad tracking him down and taking him back that he probably won’t be able to leave without a little convincing. Bruce claims that he has nowhere to go, but they both know that he would come straight to the Stark household. He’s comfortable here, he can be by himself when he wants to, and he feels more at home here than he does in his own house. Even if Brian Banner were to call the police on Tony or his parents for refusing to let Bruce go back to him, the police wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because Bruce is a legal adult and can make his own decisions. The problem is convincing Bruce that his dad can’t hurt him anymore.

He’d talk to Bruce about it now, but he knows that it’ll only stress him out an unnecessary amount, so he puts a tack in that thought and saves it for later. It’s Bruce’s birthday. He doesn’t want to make him upset on today of all days.

Bruce smiles at Tony, his eyes as tired as they’ve always been. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because you deserve it,” Tony says matter-of-factly. “You haven’t done a damn thing wrong, Bruce. You deserve to be treated well. So, seriously. If that girl doesn’t treat you right—”

Bruce groans again, rolling his eyes. “Oh, my God, Tony! Leave that subject alone, seriously. Besides, if I know anything about her, it’s that she’d treat me just fine.” 

Ow, ow, ow. 

“Fuckin’ hope so,” Tony mutters. He grins again, watching as Bruce scoots closer to him. Tony pushes himself up a bit and opens his left arm so that Bruce can fit himself snugly in the space there, his head on Tony’s chest and an arm wrapped around his midsection. Tony mentions how glad he is that Bruce is comfortable with this kind of thing now and Bruce responds by tightening his grip. For a while, it’s nothing but the sound of their breathing and Tony hopes and prays that his heart isn’t beating too fast because Bruce can definitely hear that shit. He’s dragging his fingers lightly across Bruce’s arm, which for once, isn’t covered by a sweatshirt sleeve. It’s under the blankets so Tony can’t see the scars, but Tony can feel the bumps and rough patches of skin that should have never been put there. He drags his fingers over the palm of Bruce’s hand, up his fingers, back down and over his wrist. He just wants lace his fingers through Bruce’s, but he can’t. He can’t do it. Even doing what he’s doing right now, it still hurts.

Tony wonders if this girl knows how lucky she is to hold Bruce’s affection like she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa i'm so sorry this took so long to upload! i kept forgetting and forgetting and forgetting and i'm just dealing with a lot right now and i relapsed with my ED and so i'm tired all the time and don't have a whole lot of motivation or energy lately. i'm real sorry that this took so long, i'll try to get the next one up soon!! it's all already pre-written, so don't think that i'm just going to stop updating it bc i ran out of steam or something. 
> 
> anyway, pls comment!! i run on attention and positive reinforcement and when i don't get that, my crops die in some other universe where i'm a farmer. is the alternate universe me ok? is he getting enough positive reinforcement? i hope so.


	20. fevers and christmas gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce has a fever, Tony has a gift for him, and Maria wishes that her boys weren't so goddamn dense.

Tony wakes up to an empty bed. He doesn’t think much of it; Bruce probably just went downstairs to get food or to talk to his mom about the blanket or something. Tony stays in bed for a moment, eyes closed in an attempt to fall back asleep. It’s a futile effort, however, and Tony ends up rolling out of bed with a huff before going downstairs. 

Just as he thought, Bruce is in the kitchen with a plate of waffles in front of him and a glass of orange juice. Tony’s entrance makes Bruce look up. 

“Holy shit, Tony.” He presses a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. “Bed head is a really good look on you.”

Tony runs a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught in stiff strands. “Hey, I’ve seen your bed head and you’ve got no room to talk.” He pokes around the cabinets and drawers and the fridge, looking for something to eat. “Hm. I might just go get a cheeseburger later. Fast food is always a good choice.”

“Debatable,” Bruce says. Tony watches him shove the rest of the waffles in his mouth, down the last of his orange juice, and smile. “I talked to your mom this morning. I tried to thank her for the blanket, but I just kept stuttering.” He scratches the back of his neck. “But she hugged me. And it… it wasn’t too tight. It was actually really nice.” The expression on his face shifts from content to downright heartbroken. “I miss that kind of thing.”

Tony sits next to Bruce at the counter. Up close, Tony can see that there’s a slight redness to his nose and something about him just doesn’t look… right. “I know, big guy.” He sets a hand on his shoulder, shaking it a little. “But now you’ve got her, right? I mean, obviously it’s not the same as your own mom, but it’s still something. She thinks of you as part of the family at this point, since you’re over here so much.”

Bruce nods. “I know. It’s great, Tony, it is. And I’m always going to be grateful for it. Thank you.” Tony sees his eyes well up with tears and Bruce gives a choked laugh, reaching up and swiping at his eyes. “Sorry, this is weird. It’s my birthday. I should be happy, not crying over my dead mom.” 

Tony shrugs. “Hey, you’re only human. Emotions are a pain in the ass.” He ruffles Bruce’s hair. “Now come on, you deserve to play some mind-numbing video games before you have to go home.” 

Bruce nods, standing up and putting his dishes away to be cleaned later. He follows Tony upstairs, sneezing once or twice. Tony asks him if he’s okay, if he’s sick, and Bruce says that he’s probably just catching a small cold. Tony shrugs it off and realizes that that’s why his nose looks red. He just looks a little sick is all.

Oh, how very wrong he is.

Bruce doesn’t get visibly worse the rest of the day he’s at Tony’s house for his birthday, so when Tony takes him home, he doesn’t think he has anything to worry about. On Monday, however, Bruce shows up to school, Pepper sees him in her second hour, and then in third hour he’s nowhere to be seen. Pepper tells Tony that he’d been weirdly pale and seemed a lot more lethargic than usual. 

“He told me he wanted to go home, so…” Pepper shrugs, furrowing her brow in concern. “He asked if I would call into the office and pretend to be his parent so that he could get out and go home early. Apparently his dad’s at work and he can’t reach him while he’s there, and I didn’t want to make Bruce spend the rest of the day here feeling so miserable, so I called.”

Tony tilts his head. “I would think that they’d know his mom is dead. How’d you call him out when you have, y’know, a relatively high-pitched voice?”

Pepper throws up her hands. “Somehow, my fake man-voice did the trick. I don’t think the people at the front office care enough about what’s going on to really do anything about it. That, and Miss Turner picked up.”

“Ooh, you got lucky,” Tony snorts. “She’s practically senile. Good thing the one woman who never knows what’s going on at any given moment picked up the phone.”

Pepper laughs. “No kidding,” she says, pausing for a moment. “I really hope Bruce is okay, though. He seemed really sick. Like, as sick as I was when I had the flu. Maybe he finally caught it?”

“I sure hope not,” Tony says. “I don’t think that kid’s body can take that kind of stress. He’s already so fucked up.”

Pepper nods, sighing. “Maybe we should go and check on him after school.”

Tony’s eyes widen the slightest bit. “Hah, no, he’ll be fine. I’ll just shoot him a text and see what’s going on. He’s not big on having people over to his house anyway.” 

Pepper looks at Tony strangely for a moment before shrugging. “Alright, well, let me know what he says.”

Tony smiles. “And you used to think he was creepy.”

“I used to think  _ you _ were creepy.”

“What?” Tony blinks, leaning back and pressing a hand to his heart in mock offense. “You thought  _ I _ was creepy?”

“Well, yeah!” Pepper shoves him playfully, rolling her eyes. “You kept hitting on Natasha. And before her you were always sleeping around and hitting on anything that moved.”

“I never hit on Rogers,” Tony says with a scowl. 

“Yeah, well, he has a stick up his ass. You said it yourself. With a stick up his ass, his movement is limited.” 

“God, I love you."

 

Tony sends Bruce a text asking him if he got home alright, considering he probably had to walk. That walk would have taken him a good thirty to forty five minutes, and if Bruce is as sick as Pepper says he is, that would have  _ sucked.  _ He doesn’t answer right away. A good hour goes by before Bruce replies with a, “Yeah, I’m fine,” to which Tony huffs because that clearly means that he is  _ not _ fine. Bruce being sick is worrisome because Tony knows his dad won’t take care of him. Hell, he might make Bruce feel even worse. But Tony can’t go over to Bruce’s house and take care of him, and he doubts that Bruce will be able to come over to his house. All Tony can really do is text him and try to keep him distracted so he doesn’t feel as shitty.

In the middle of eating with his mom that night, however, Tony receives a text from Bruce that makes him feel both relief and concern.

From: Bruce

_ can you come and pick me up? _

To: Bruce

_ Sure. Everything okay? _

From: Bruce

_ yeah i’ll be at the end of my street _

Tony tells his mom he’s going to pick Bruce up and he’s probably going to spend the night, and of course she says that’s just fine with her, it is the start of winter break, after all. Tony tells Bruce he’s on his way as he pulls out of his driveway.

When he gets to the end of Bruce’s road, he sees the big guy himself sitting at the corner, all wrapped up in a hoodie and his arms around his knees. Poor kid must be fucking freezing, Tony thinks. There’s no snow on the ground, but the weather forecast called for a flurry. It’s only about twenty degrees out right now.

“Where the hell is your winter coat?” Tony asks Bruce as he gets in the passenger seat. He cranks up the heat for him.

“D-D—” Bruce stutters out. He can’t seem to form words because of how much he’s shivering. He swallows thickly. “D-Doesn’t fit a-anymore.”

“Jesus, Bruce!” Tony glares at him out of the corner of his eye. “Well. That’s it. We’re going shopping for a new coat for you next week. It’ll be my Christmas present to you.”

“Y-You shouldn’t get me anything, Tony,” Bruce says through his chattering teeth. His voice is shaky. “I c-can’t get you anything a-anyway.”

“So? I’ve got money coming out of my eyeballs, Bruce. I think I can afford to buy you a fucking parka.” Tony rolls his eyes, reaching over and gently shoving Bruce’s shoulder. “Don’t throw up in my car, okay?”

“I know,” Bruce says, a small smile on his face, “the seats are expensive.”

“Exactly.”

Once they arrive back at home, Bruce almost doesn’t want to get out of the car because it’s finally gotten warm and he doesn’t want to walk through the cold garage for ten seconds to get to the door. Tony promises to get him warm once they’re inside and Bruce forces himself to speed-walk to the door and into the house. He’s shivering almost violently again, his arms wrapped around himself. He kicks off his shoes next to Tony’s and Tony immediately ushers him upstairs to his room, stopping him once the door is closed to get a good look at him. He puts his hands on either side of Bruce’s flushed face and almost winces at how warm he is. 

“Holy shit,” Tony says. He presses the back of his hand to Bruce’s sweaty forehead. “I don’t want to alarm you, but you might be dying.”

Bruce chuckles. “Finally.”

Tony makes a sour face at Bruce. “Sorry, can’t have you dying in my room. Only good things happen here and I don’t want you tainting the fun time vibes. But seriously, you’ve got a fever. Hang on, I wanna make sure it’s not actually life-threatening.” He sits Bruce down on the edge of his bed before rushing off to get the thermometer from the bathroom, returning and sitting down next to Bruce. Bruce sticks it under his tongue and waits about ten seconds before it beeps. “Hundred and three. Shit, dude. You’re not dying, but in case you  _ do  _ start dying, I’m bringing you up a fuckton of water. Drink lots of fluids and get lots of rest and all that bullshit.”

“I haven’t had a fever since elementary school,” Bruce says. He shivers. 

Tony brushes the hair back from Bruce’s sweaty forehead, smiling in amusement. “Shit’s going around. Looks like you weren’t so lucky this year, Freckles. Now take that fucking hoodie off and get under the covers already.” He tells Bruce he’ll be right back before dashing down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. His mom asks him if everything’s alright, and he simply tells her that Bruce is sick but it’s nothing to worry about and yes, he’ll make sure he doesn’t catch whatever it is that Bruce has. 

When he returns to his room, he finds Bruce sprawled out under the blankets in his bed, eyes closed and chest rising and falling slowly as he breathes. Tony sets the drink on his bedside table before sitting next to Bruce, crossing his legs and reaching over to run his fingers through the boy’s curls. Bruce opens his eyes and looks at Tony, curling up a bit under the blankets.

“T-Thanks for picking me up,” he says, teeth still chattering. 

“You’re welcome,” Tony says. “I take it your dad isn’t home tonight?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Went out… somewhere. I dunno. I never know.”

Tony makes a face. “Sorry, man. But at least that means you can chill over here, right?” 

Bruce sniffles. “Yeah, that’s a perk.” He reaches out one of his arms from under the blanket, gripping Tony’s calf and pulling himself closer to him so he can put his head in Tony’s lap. “Is this okay?”

Tony swallows, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. Bruce is a heart condition all on his own. He nods. “Yeah, you’re good. Just try not to get me sick.”

“If P-Pepper didn’t get y-you sick, I d-don’t think I will e-either,” Bruce stammers out between his teeth. Tony sets his hand in Bruce’s hair. “I’m kinda dizzy.”

Tony presses his lips together. “It’s a good thing you’re laying down then, huh?” He smirks.

Bruce nods, and for a while, they’re quiet. It’s just the sound of Bruce breathing and occasionally sniffling, and Tony running his fingers through Bruce’s hair. Things are peaceful and quiet and Tony’s leg falls asleep but he doesn’t care as long as Bruce is comfortable and content. 

He’s never heard Bruce talk in his sleep before. 

Bruce had fallen asleep not long after setting his head in Tony’s lap, his lips parted and his shivers dying down a bit. He’s woken up to Bruce hyperventilating in his sleep before, but he’s never heard him talk while sleeping. He keeps muttering, saying something and everything about his mom. Tony feels like he shouldn’t be listening to this, but… he can’t help it. The sound of Bruce muttering about his mom and whimpering something about wanting his dad to leave her alone makes Tony feel sick. He realizes with a start that Bruce never actually told him  _ how  _ his mother died. And with what Tony knows about Brian Banner, he thinks he knows where this is going.

There’s a pause in Bruce’s speech where he seems to calm down for a moment, his brow still furrowed but his voice finally quieting. Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead and Tony wishes that he could go grab a cold towel or something to press against it without having to move. The silence doesn’t last very long at all before Bruce is jerking violently in his sleep, his hand coming up and gripping Tony’s knee. He makes a pained noise and Tony’s eyes widen in concern. Bruce is still whimpering “Mom, Mom, Mom, what did you do, why won’t she move,” and Tony can’t take it anymore. He shakes Bruce’s shoulder, urging him to wake up and snap out of it. It takes quite a bit of shaking for Bruce to finally open his eyes, his chest heaving and tears running down his face as he looks up at Tony with fear etched into every muscle in his face. 

Tony smooths the hair back from Bruce’s slick forehead. “Hey,” he says quietly, brow furrowed, “it’s okay, Freckles. You’re okay, I promise, I’m right here—”

And then Bruce is sobbing.

Tony can barely make out what he’s saying in between sobs, his hands smoothing over Bruce’s arms and hair in an effort to provide some sense of comfort. 

“S-She wouldn’t— wouldn’t g-get up,” Bruce chokes out. “He just— pushed h-her down so ha-hard, Tony, she w-wouldn’t get back up—” He takes a deep, shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut, gripping Tony’s knee. “We w-were trying to ge-get away, and I— I couldn’t pro-protect her, I couldn’t do a- _ anything—” _

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out without breaking down again. Tony wishes he would stop talking. 

“Bruce,” Tony says, rubbing slow circles over the boy’s back, “you’re fine. You’re alright. We can talk about this later, okay? Just… breathe. Breathe for right now.”

“I-I’m trying,” Bruce says, pressing his face into Tony’s leg. Tony can feel him struggling to breathe normally. “I can’t— I can’t get it out of my head, Tony, I keep s-seeing it—”

“Orange,” Tony says calmly. 

Bruce glances up at him, sniffling and hiccuping. “W-What?”

“Orange. Wildcard. Tell me something random about yourself.” Tony grins, poking the spot between Bruce’s shoulder blades. 

Bruce closes his eyes again, exhaling out his nose slowly. “Okay, um…” Tony can see him chewing on the inside of his lip. “I used to straighten my hair in ninth and tenth grade.”

Tony can’t help but snort, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. He tries to picture Bruce with straight hair and fails miserably. “Straight hair? On  _ you _ ? No. Not a good look. I’m kind of glad I didn’t know you then. The only Bruce I want to know is a curly haired Bruce.”

Bruce offers a weak chuckle, but it’s a genuine one at least. “So you’re saying that if I started straightening my hair again, you’d kick me to the curb?”

Tony huffs. “Well, maybe not. I’d be absolutely appalled, but I probably wouldn’t stop talking to you. Even if your hair is hideously straight, you’re still my best friend.” He grins. “But seriously. Don’t ever straighten your hair again. Curls look  _ so _ much better on you.” 

“How would you know?” Bruce says snarkily.  _ Okay,  _ Tony thinks,  _ he’s calming down. Thank God.  _ “You never saw me with straight hair.”

“Trust me,” Tony says with a grimace. “I just know.”

“Alright. Whatever you say, Slick,” Bruce rolls his eyes. 

Tony blinks. “ _ Slick? _ ” His smile grows. “That’s your nickname for me that took you almost five months to come up with?”

“I’ve had it in my head for a while, I just… haven’t used it until now.” Bruce adjusts himself to be able to look straight up at Tony. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“Bruce, I call you Glasses,” Tony deadpans. “That is arguably worse than Slick.” He ruffles Bruce’s hair, making the boy give a laugh that turns into a small sob.

“Fuck,” Bruce chokes out, reaching up to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I forgot how bad fever dreams are. I didn’t mean to tell you… that.” His eyes suddenly widen in panic. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

Tony feels the breath get knocked out of him. He hadn’t even thought of that. Bruce just told him that his abusive father  _ murdered _ his mother ten years ago. Yeah, he knows it was a decade ago, but Tony still thinks that something should be done about that. Someone like Brian Banner doesn’t deserve to be roaming the streets and taking care of a child, he deserves to be in prison. For life. 

“I don’t want people to know,” Bruce continues before Tony can respond. “I— I know he deserves to go to prison for what he did and I-I want him to, Tony, I do! But I just… I can’t deal with everyone around here hearing about it. They won’t be able to look at me without thinking about the fact that... my own dad killed m-my mom right in front of me.” He struggles to say that, the words almost getting caught in his throat. “I’ll come out about it when I’m older. Maybe.” He looks down.

_ No you won’t, _ Tony thinks sadly.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Tony says despite it all. “I know that you’d… you’d have to deal with a lot if that happened. It was so long ago, too. You’ll get there someday.” Tony pauses, setting his hand on Bruce’s chest. “And I’m gonna be with you every goddamn step of the way if I can help it.” 

Bruce is quiet for a moment and Tony can feel his chest rising and falling beneath his hand, a sure sign that Bruce is alive and okay and he’s here he’s here he’s here. Tony is grateful for every moment that Bruce exists.

“Okay,” Bruce says after a good two minutes of silence. “I… I really hope that you are. I don’t think I could handle that kind of thing on my own.”

“I know,” Tony says. It’s quiet after that, both of them unaware of how much the other appreciates the physical closeness and how much they want to be closer. It’s about fifteen minutes later and Tony is leaning up against the wall at the head of his bed with Bruce’s head still resting in his lap, Tony’s fingers running through his hair, when he suddenly remembers something. A bright smile forms on his face. 

“Hey,” he says, tapping Bruce’s forehead. Bruce looks up at him with a curious expression, blinking tiredly. Tony’s smile falls a bit. “Shit, were you sleeping?”

Bruce shakes his head, yawning. “I wish. I feel too crappy to sleep right now.”

“Do you feel too crappy to stand up and walk downstairs?” Tony asks, his smile slowly returning to his face. “I, uh, got something for you. Well, made it, technically. I mean, I had to buy things to make it with, but. You know.”

Bruce gives Tony a bemused smile of his own. “Why are you always buying me things?”

“Listen,” Tony says, urging Bruce to sit up by moving his legs out from underneath his head, “I buy you nice things because I can. That’s it. And this isn’t anything big, trust me. It’s a surprisingly humble thing for me to give you. For me to give  _ anyone, _ really—”

“Tony,” Bruce interrupts him, “just show me whatever you’re gonna show me.” He smiles, sitting up and looking at Tony. The tired but endeared smile Bruce gives him makes Tony feel like jelly. 

“O-Okay.” Tony shakes his head to wipe the dumbstruck look of absolute adoration off his face before climbing off the bed and telling Bruce to follow him. He ignores the feeling of anxiety, hoping that Bruce doesn’t think it’s going to be anything super special. It’s really not, he thinks. It’s small and while it’s sentimental, it’s nothing to get too excited over. Tony usually never does silly stuff like this, but with Bruce… he  _ wants _ to. The cheesier the better, it seems. He felt similarly with Pepper, but not nearly to this extent. It’s embarrassing.

In the living room, Bruce sits down on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He’s got the glass of water Tony brought him in his shaking hand, taking small sips of it every now and then. A Christmas tree sits in the corner of the living room near the fire crackling in the fireplace. The lamp by the chair is still on.

Tony goes over to the tree, picking up one of the presents sitting under it. There aren’t many, actually, and the few that  _ are _ there are to and from Tony and his mom. There’s one addressed to Howard from Maria, but Tony has no idea what it is and he doesn’t really care. When he turns back and looks at Bruce sitting on the couch, he’s met with a genuinely content smile and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruce look more serene. Tony sits down on the floor, crossing his legs and setting the present on the coffee table between him and Bruce. 

“You’re awfully smiley right now,” Tony says, smirking. “What’s on your mind, big guy?”

Bruce blinks, glancing away from the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree and over to Tony. “Oh,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “I dunno, it’s just… it’s nice how much you guys decorate for this kind of thing. My family never really decorated for it even when my mom was around. It makes me feel, I don’t know, warm. I guess.”

Tony tilts his head, lips quirking upward. “I like it, too.” He chuckles. “Dad hates Christmas music, right? And in the kitchen, there’s a panel on the wall that lets me play whatever I want wherever I want in the house. So when I know he’s working in his lab, I turn on Christmas music just for him. And I can tell when he turns it off, so I just turn it right back on and then lock it so he has to come all the way down to the kitchen to turn it off. I got in a lot of trouble for it once, but then Mom did it because I told her about it and she thought it was fucking  _ hilarious _ , so now he doesn’t know who to yell at about it when it happens.” 

“Jesus,” Bruce laughs. He sneezes. “I would get my ass kicked if I tried to pull something like that. But you know that.”

Tony sighs, offering a crooked smile of sympathy. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, here. Open it.” Tony slides the present closer to Bruce.

Bruce hesitantly picks up the box wrapped in candy cane patterned paper, turning it over in his hands and examining it carefully before ripping open a small piece of the paper. Tony groans.

“Oh, my God.” He drags his hands down his face. “You’re killing me, Freckles. Just open the present.”

Bruce huffs, ripping off the rest of the paper and tossing it to the side. He opens the lid on the white cardboard box and reaches in, pulling out— 

“An ornament?” Bruce furrows his brow, holding a clear, glass ornament with purple ribbon stuffed inside. Written on the outside in green glitter glue in surprisingly well-done cursive is Bruce’s name. Tony swallows, running a hand through his hair. God, why is he so nervous about this? He can’t tell what Bruce is thinking. Is he disappointed? Is he happy? The furrowed brow makes him think that the former is more likely, but he can’t be sure when it comes to Bruce.

“Yeah,” Tony nods. “I kind of figured that you’ve never had a Christmas tree before, and since you basically live here… you’re a part of the family now, y’know? Mom considers you a part of the family and so do I. So it would make sense that you’d have an ornament on the tree. Sorry it looks kinda crappy; me and Mom made our ornaments for each other by hand, so it just made sense that I’d make yours by hand, too. Mom picked out the ribbon.” 

Bruce lowers his hands into his lap, staring down at the ornament with a still-furrowed brow. Tony’s not sure, but he thinks he can see Bruce’s lower lip trembling. “I think it’s a pretty nice gift, but you can tell me if you don’t like it,” Tony says.

Bruce sniffles, reaching up to wipe his eyes, chuckling breathlessly. “You never know when to stop, do you?”

Tony cocks his head. “What?”

Bruce looks up at him, a bright smile on his face and tears in his eyes. “You keep fucking making me cry, you asshole. I don’t— I don’t even know what to say. Fuck.” He swipes at his eyes again, laughing at himself.

Tony stands up to go and sit next to Bruce, relief flooding through him because oh thank fucking  _ God _ Bruce likes the present. Before he can even take two steps, though, Bruce is standing as well and suddenly Tony has a very emotional best friend in his arms. Bruce’s arms hook underneath Tony’s and he buries his face into the crook of Tony’s neck.

Tony wishes his heart would stop beating so fast. 

It takes him a moment to really respond, his mind not grasping that Bruce is hugging him, and hugging him  _ tight. _ After taking a moment to process what’s going on, Tony finally wraps his arms around Bruce’s waist underneath the blanket draped on his shoulders. He rests his cheek on top of Bruce’s head. “You give pretty tight hugs for someone so skinny.” Tony squeezes him gently around the waist.

Bruce snorts, only tightening his hold on Tony. Tony can feel him digging his fingers into his shoulder blades. In all the time they’ve known each other, they haven’t once hugged, Tony realizes with a start. Sure, they’re on each other all the time when they’re sleeping or watching TV, but they’ve never just…  _ hugged. _ Tony can’t believe how good it feels and he kind of sort of wants to stay like this for the rest of his life.

“Thank you,” Bruce says against Tony’s neck. His voice is soft and shy, uncertain almost. “I… I forgot what it was like to be part of a family.”

Tony feels his own fingers dig into Bruce’s back at that, anger filling him to the brim because Bruce deserves to know what it’s like to be part of a family. He deserves to have a mother and to have a father who doesn’t constantly beat him. He deserves to have presents on Christmas Day and he deserves to feel safe and happy and  _ calm _ . He’s never gotten any of those things until now, though, and even then he’s still working on obtaining some of those things. It makes Tony feel sick with rage, but he pushes it down for Bruce’s sake. He doesn’t want to remind Bruce of those things right now. He just wants Bruce to feel happy in this moment.

“I hope this was a decent reminder,” Tony chuckles into Bruce’s hair. “You’re stuck with us, so you’re gonna have to get used to having a family again. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

Bruce lets out a happy little sigh against Tony’s neck and it’s all Tony can do not to melt right there. Unfortunately, Tony doesn’t know how much more he can take of this hug because of that. “Alright, Curly. As much as I love what’s happening right now, I don’t want you getting me sick. Go hang your ornament.”

Bruce pulls away, laughing and swiping at his eyes again. He apologizes for crying into Tony’s shoulder and Tony shrugs it off, telling him it’s no big deal. He has plenty of other T-shirts. 

(Tony realizes upon saying that that Bruce is wearing a T-shirt of his he lent him not too long ago and, well, there’s something about it that’s just so  _ hot _ to him, he has to sit down and think about old ladies in order to stop the oncoming boner.)

The ornament is hung on the front of the tree near the spots where Tony and Maria’s ornaments are hung. It’s a nice addition, Tony thinks. After that, the only thing left for them to do is to curl back up on the couch together, Bruce’s head on Tony’s shoulder and Tony’s cheek resting atop Bruce’s head. The fire crackles in front of them, and for a while, the only sounds are that of the fire and their voices quietly making conversation. Their voices die down as they fall victim to sleep, not caring that they’re probably going to wake up with stiff necks and sore backs.

(Maria finds them soon after they’ve fallen asleep. She smiles and gently sets a blanket over the two of them despite the fact that Bruce already has one wrapped around his shoulders. She knows that, despite Bruce not biologically being her own, these are her boys and she wants nothing but happiness for the two of them. 

Now, if only they would get over themselves and confess.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I UPDATED AND I AM SO SORRY WOW
> 
> holy shit things are FUCK. i am having the time of my life mentally rn. not doin so well, kiddos. doin my best, but it doesn't feel like it's enough. BUT i'm still here and i gave u guys an extra long chapter bc u had to wait so dang long!! also it's a fuckin christmas chapter and im pissed bc christmas is already dead and gone lmao
> 
> pls pls comment it's my life force and if u want come say hi to me on tumblr!! i'm queerstarks!


	21. mistletoe and snowball fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony is a goddamn tease and Bruce has really nice lips.

Tony thanks whatever exists every day for the fact that, for the past eighteen years of his life, mistletoe hasn’t been a thing in his house. He can’t imagine how awkward it would be to have Bruce over during Christmas time and end up getting trapped beneath one of those Godforsaken plants in a doorway with him. He knows that they wouldn’t  _ have _ to kiss, but holy shit, he’d be thinking about how that’s what you’re supposed to do and Bruce would probably get all uncomfortable and move out from under it and Tony would have to make a joke about the situation.

So why the  _ fuck _ is there mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the living room?

It’s Christmas Eve. Tony wants to die and he’s sure that his face is as red as a tomato and both Bruce and his mother can see it. They’d just gone in there to tell his mom that they were going to go outside and fuck around in the snow for a bit, and now here they are, stuck underneath mistletoe that hadn’t been there yesterday or the day before or any other day of Tony’s life prior to today. Why. Why is this happening. What did Tony do to deserve this.

He knows his mom has everything to do with this. She and Pepper are basically plotting to get him and Bruce together, after all, and Tony is sure that part of the reason why his face is redder than Pepper’s hair is because he’s angry with his mom. He rarely ever gets mad at his mom, but oh, she crossed a line this time. It probably isn’t as bad as Tony thinks, truth be told, but being given the opportunity to kiss someone that you really want to kiss all the time and  _ knowing _ that you  _ can’t _ is probably the worst thing in the world. All Tony can do is glare at his mom for a lot longer than is probably necessary before turning to Bruce and seeing the redness in his face as well. Great. This is great. Tony can feel his soul leaving his body, but this is great.

“Huh,” Bruce says, glancing up at the mistletoe above them, “funny how that suddenly appeared there. I don’t remember seeing it before now.”

Tony nods, lips pressed into a tight line. This is ridiculous. Time for sarcasm! “Well, seeing as the mistletoe has mistle-tiptoed up on us, I guess that means we have to kiss.” He forces himself to stop blushing, stop being so tense,  _ stop _ freaking out. Instead, he puts his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and grins. “C’mere, big guy!” 

Bruce’s eyes widen as Tony leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek.

Tony grins against his cheek, leaning forward just the slightest bit more so his lips are closer to Bruce’s ear, just hovering over it. He lets out the smallest chuckle before murmuring, “You’re not  _ that _ lucky.”

Bruce is stock still and Tony can feel his mother side-eyeing them, so he pulls away with a cocky expression on his face. He smirks. “Anyway, we just wanted to tell you that we’re gonna go outside for a while,” he says to his mom. “Just so you’re not wondering where we’re at.”

Maria sighs, turning towards them and forcing a smile onto her face. “Alright, you boys have fun. Bundle up, it’s chilly!” She calls after them as they dash to the coatroom. “Is Bruce spending the night?”

Tony looks at Bruce for an answer, asking if he can or if he needs to take him home later. Bruce purses his lips in thought.

“Dad seemed pretty wasted before I came over,” Bruce says quietly so Tony’s mom won’t hear him. “I kind of doubt he’ll notice if I’m gone for the night. I snuck out my window, after all. He probably still thinks I’m in my room. He normally doesn’t bother me if I’m locked up in my room. I should be good.” He pauses in his speech as he puts on the coat Tony is letting him borrow until he can take him out to actually  _ buy _ him one. “Besides, spending Christmas with you guys would be worth him being pissed at me.”

Tony presses his lips together in a tight line, unhappy with the idea of Bruce’s father being mad at him. He’s going to be mad at him either way, though. Bruce going home isn’t going to make much of a difference, and if Bruce can spend Christmas here— well, Tony can die happy.

At Bruce’s words, Tony nods. “Yeah, Mom. He’s spending the night.”

Maria claps her hands together happily. “Oh, good! His father is alright with that?”

“He’s got work during the day,” Bruce calls back to her. “So we wouldn’t be seeing each other anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Maria says, and Tony can hear the frown in her voice. “Well, we’re always happy to have you here.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Stark.” Bruce smiles, ducking his head under his curls to hide the silly smile on his face. It makes Tony unbelievably excited to see how happy Bruce gets when Maria shows that she cares about him. “Can I borrow a hat and gloves, too?” He asks Tony with an embarrassed smile.

Tony laughs, rolling his eyes and throwing Bruce a purple beanie with the words ‘BAD HAIR DAY’ on it, along with a pair of blue gloves. Bruce chuckles at the beanie. “How come I’ve never seen you wear this?”

“Because I never have bad hair days,” Tony says.

“Oh, right,” Bruce nods. “Okay, then, Slick. I still think beanies would be a good look on you.”

“Maybe,” Tony shrugs. “I just never wear them because I usually have product in my hair. But considering my hair is product-free at the moment, toss me the red one.” Bruce hands over the beanie to him and Tony puts it on, tucking his ears under it. He looks at Bruce with a cocky smile. “So, how’s it look?”

Bruce stares at him for a moment, almost seeming to zone out for some reason. He blinks a few times before shaking his head.

“What?” Tony asks, brow furrowed. Bruce seems  _ annoyed _ and Tony can’t think of any reason why he would be. What did Tony do this time?

Bruce scoffs. “Nothing, I’m just pissed at you.”

Tony blinks, his smile falling from his face. “What? Why?”

Bruce gestures to Tony’s face. “It’s not fair!” He says with a bitter smile as he opens the back door and puts his boots on. He hits the garage door opener. 

Tony throws up his hands in frustration, joining Bruce outside and putting his boots on as well. “ _ What’s _ not fair?”

“The fact that you’re… you,” Bruce says, laughing under his breath. “You don’t even have to try and you look better than everyone around you.”

Tony looks at Bruce like he’s crazy. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

Bruce lets out a loud groan, crazily gesturing to Tony’s entire body. “I’m just jealous, okay? And inadequate. Compared to you, I mean. To everyone, actually. But especially you.” He rolls his eyes. “My point is that you look really good all the time and I feel like I shouldn’t be near you as much as I am because I probably make you look bad.”

Seriously?  _ That’s _ why he’s pissed? Tony pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing and attempting to exhibit enough self control  _ not _ to grab Bruce’s shoulders and shake them until he gets it into his thick! Head! That he’s not! A burden! He doesn’t know how to convince him otherwise. “The only thing about you that makes me look bad,” he says, shoving a pair of gloves towards Bruce, “is the unfortunate  _ lack _ of you whenever you’re not around.”

Bruce sighs, putting on the gloves before taking a few strides toward the open garage door. “That’s a lie,” he says bitterly. “You’d be much better off without me and you know it.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans loudly, joining Bruce on his driveway. “It’s  _ not _ a lie and I  _ don’t  _ know that. And I’m a genius; I know everything.” He watches as Bruce makes his way over to the snow on the lawn, standing at the edge. He looks back at Tony with a doubtful expression. “What do you want me to say?” Tony asks. “Want me to take off the beanie?”

Bruce shakes his head. “God, no. I told you it’s a good look on you. I just want you to admit that I make you look bad.”

Tony can’t help but feel irritated at Bruce’s intense need to prove that he’s unworthy of Tony’s presence— which he’s  _ not.  _ Walking up behind Bruce, Tony sets his chin on his shoulder. “Can’t admit something that’s not true.” He grins.

Bruce lets out another sigh. “Please, Tony. I know you at  _ least  _ think I’m annoying.”

“I only think you’re annoying when you insist on saying that I think you’re annoying,” Tony says, his face turned just slightly toward Bruce’s neck. God, it’s right there. He could kiss it right now. Setting a hand on Bruce’s hip, Tony smiles. “I like having you in my life, Bruce. If you don’t like being around me and this is just your way of trying to get rid of me, stop it. Just tell me if you don’t actually like me.” The thought of that breaks Tony’s heart, truthfully. The idea of Bruce not liking him, even just as a friend, is an idea that Tony really doesn’t want to entertain. It makes his stomach churn. 

Bruce tenses at Tony’s touch. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “I like you, Tony, I do! I just… feel like you deserve someone better than me to have as a best friend.”

Tony knows that Bruce can feel him breathing softly on his neck. Why isn’t he doing anything about it? “Nah, I could never do better than you. There isn’t anybody else who’s worthy of being as close to me as you are, anyway.” He smirks, his free hand coming to a rest on Bruce’s other hip. He’s confused. Bruce talks about this girl he likes quite a bit, and Tony knows that Bruce is uncomfortable with this kind of thing, but lately… he’s been getting mixed signals. Bruce hasn’t been explicitly asking him to stop. He’s shown signs of discomfort (such as tensing up whenever Tony pulls something like this) but he hasn’t been bluntly telling Tony not to do what he’s doing and he hasn’t been pulling away. It’s kind of pissing Tony off. He doesn’t know what Bruce is thinking and he doesn’t know if he should go as far as he wants to. So instead, he teases. Just to see what kind of reactions he can get.

Lifting his head up some, Tony’s lips hover near Bruce’s ear just like they did under the mistletoe. He smiles. “Besides, who else would I do stuff like this with, anyway?” His lips graze the shell of Bruce’s ear, and that’s that.

Bruce tenses up so much that Tony is surprised he’s still breathing, worming himself out of Tony’s grasp and walking forward into the snow. “Hey,” he says, voice higher than usual, “you know what I haven’t done in years? Made a snow angel. We should make a pair.” He immediately lays himself down in the snow, his limbs sprawled out. Tony watches as he grabs a handful of snow and presses it to his face for a moment.

“Careful, don’t wanna get yourself sick again,” Tony quips. He can’t help the shit-eating grin on his face as he joins Bruce on the ground, turning his head to look at the red-faced boy. He’s got his eyes trained on the sky and Tony holds back laughter at how obviously flustered he is. Maybe his mom is right— maybe Bruce isn’t straight. But then again,  _ anyone  _ would get flustered from having Tony Stark’s mouth pressed up against their ear, no matter what their gender is. 

“I’ll be fine,” Bruce says. He shoves the handful of snow into Tony’s face. “ _ You’re  _ the one who needs to cool down, hot stuff.” Tony’s sputtering makes Bruce giggle, stifling it with the back of his hand. His cheeks are glowing red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go down your shirt.”

Tony shrugs. “Hey,  _ snow _ big deal.” He shivers despite his nonchalant response, sitting up and trying to get the snow out of his jacket. He packs a ball of snow of his own, scooting away from Bruce and grinning mischievously. “But you’re gonna pay for that.”

Bruce’s eyes widen, a silly smile on his face that makes Tony’s heart melt even in the cold night air. As soon as he stands up, Tony is throwing his snowball, hitting Bruce square in his back. Bruce stumbles, laughing as he heads for a tree to hide behind. Tony can hear him snickering as he approaches the tree, his body ready to dodge any snowballs that come his way. His cheeks hurt from both the cold and from grinning and he’s glad that Bruce convinced him to wear a hat or his ears would be numb. 

“You just hit me in the back, Tony!” Bruce says, peeking around the tree. “I’d say that’s good enough payback!”

Tony scoffs. “Um, no? It’s not? You threw snow down my  _ shirt _ , Bruce. It’s only fair that you suffer the same fate.”

Bruce groans, disappearing back behind the tree again. Tony continues to advance slowly, keeping a watchful eye out for any oncoming snowballs. He hears shuffling from behind the tree— probably Bruce packing a snowball to launch at Tony. Tony’s prepared for that, though. So when Bruce jumps out from behind the tree and chucks a snowball at him, Tony throws his as well, the two balls of ice colliding in the air. They blink, staring at the air between them where they’d hit before looking at each other and dissolving into laughter. 

“Great job!” Tony says, scooping up some more snow. “If you were going for agonizing failure, that is.” He takes four long strides forward and, before Bruce can even get anything past his lips, pulls Bruce’s jacket away from his body and shoves his handful of snow down it. Bruce yelps, jumping away from Tony and unzipping his jacket to aggressively brush the snow off his midsection. Tony laughs as Bruce hops up and down, babbling incoherencies ( _ “Oh my God Tony I hate you so much why am I friends with you holy shit I’m going to shove snow up your ass for this I swear—”) _ and eventually just taking off his jacket to shake his shirt out. Once all the snow is off of him, he shivers and puts his coat back on, a pout on his face.

“Aw, Brucey, don’t be mad,” Tony says, smirking. He takes Bruce’s face in his hands and puckers his lips. “Would it help warm you up if I kissed it better?”

Bruce’s cheeks flare even more than they already were and he reaches up and puts his hands on Tony’s wrists. “You had your chance under the mistletoe, Slick.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, wishing that Bruce would just  _ give in  _ already and let Tony pepper his face with kisses. But alas, no such thing will be happening tonight, apparently. “No homo,” Tony says with an amused snort, “but I might just have to drag you back to the mistletoe, then.”

Bruce opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, Tony’s mom’s voice sounds from the front door. “Boys!” She calls, and both Tony and Bruce look over to her with surprised expressions. She giggles at their current positions; Tony’s hands on Bruce’s face and Bruce’s hands wrapped around Tony’s wrists. Tony pulls away with an embarrassed grin, waving to his mom while Bruce shuffles awkwardly next to him. “I brought you some hot chocolate. You don’t have to come in yet, I just want you two to stay warm.” She sets the thermos she’s holding on the porch. “Don’t stay out too much longer, though. Okay?”

“‘Kay, Mom,” Tony nods. Maria heads back inside as Tony and Bruce make their way over to the porch. “Well, looks like I won’t be needing mistletoe to warm you up anymore. Mom’s got us covered.” He sits on the front porch step, snatching up the thermos and holding it out to Bruce, gesturing for him to sit next to him. “I promise I won’t shove any more snow down your shirt.”

Bruce shakes his head, taking a seat next to Tony. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees Bruce apply chapstick. Damn, that’s some lucky fucking chapstick. “Okay,” Bruce says once he’s done, “give me that. I’m freezing, thanks to you.”

“Oh, shush. I said I was sorry. You got snow down my shirt first, anyway.” Tony hands Bruce the thermos, watching him take a tentative sip because it is  _ hot _ chocolate after all. He flinches slightly as he drinks, and when he pulls away from the thermos he makes a face.

“I think I just burned off the majority of my taste buds,” Bruce says. “Here. Careful with it. I know I’m a wimp but that shit is hot.”

Tony takes the thermos from Bruce, laughing softly at his words before glancing down at the cap of the thermos. Bruce’s chapstick-covered lips left obvious marks on the metal of the cap, and for a second, Tony is very,  _ very _ distracted by this. He can see all the lines where the skin of Bruce’s lips has cracked, can see how nicely his mouth envelopes the—

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice startles Tony out of his wandering thoughts. He blinks a few times and looks up at his friend, hoping that Bruce mistakes Tony’s blush for cold cheeks. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Tony says, nodding. He glances back down at the cup, chuckling and running a hand through his hair. Bruce asks him what he’s laughing at and Tony decides, fuck it. He’s already done a bunch of other gay shit tonight, what’s one more instance? “I’m just— you left marks on the cup. And I was just thinking that, for a guy, you have really nice lips. Most guys—especially white guys—have, like, super thin lips. But your’s are really full and pink and curved the exact amount lips should be curved and sure, they might be chapped as hell right now, but somehow they still manage to look good.” He shrugs. “I’d say I’m sorry for being openly bi and talking about your lips like that, but I’m not.” 

Bruce stares at Tony, lips pressed together and hands clasped in his lap. Tony doesn’t know what that means. Did he go too far? Did he freak Bruce out? Did he finally manage to push Bruce so close to the edge that he just  _ has _ to give in to his obvious (but not really) undying love for Tony? 

“You… have really nice lips, too.”

_ Nice. _

“Oh, well thank you,” Tony beams. He smiles against the thermos as he takes a sip of the hot chocolate, pretending that it doesn’t burn him at all. “I’ve been told that before, but it means the most coming from you, Freckles.”

Their time spent outside lasts for almost another hour. Just before midnight when they find themselves lying on the ground passing a joint between the two of them, giggles escaping their lips as they find everything and nothing at all funny, they decide that they should head inside before Tony’s mom comes out and finds them smoking pot on her property.

(His mother has expressed to him in the past that she doesn’t mind if he smokes, just as long as it’s not on her property. Tony tries to follow that rule as much as possible, but it’s hard not to occasionally make exceptions.)

They wait a few minutes after the joint is gone to let the smell dissipate, not wanting to drag it into the house. Tony thinks about what happened the last time they were high together and he wishes he could get away with doing something like that again, but they’re not nearly high enough and he knows he would feel too guilty to try it. Bruce doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of like that. Tony’s starting to realize that Bruce is definitely not as straight as he says he is, but he’s obviously not comfortable with being open about it even with Tony yet. Tony’s not going to try to push him to come out to him any harder than he already does. 

“So,” Bruce says once they’re in Tony’s room, “do you think Santa will still come if we’re still awake fifteen minutes from now?”

Tony, realizing that he’d forgotten to take his coat and hat off downstairs, shrugs his coat off as he makes his way over to his bed, tossing it on the floor. “Fuck if I know,” he says. “As long as we don’t leave the room, we should be good.”  
Bruce chuckles and flops down onto Tony’s bed, face down. Tony follows suit. “Are all the presents under the tree right now all that’ll be there in the morning?”

“Might be,” Tony says, yawning. He squints at Bruce. “Dad doesn’t really bother getting me anything and we don’t even actually do that much for Christmas, anyway. Presents aren’t a big deal. Parents’ have a fucking conference tomorrow afternoon, too. Something about the cars Dad’s been working on.” He frowns. 

“Oh,” Bruce sighs. “Well, Christmas isn’t supposed to be about presents, anyway. It’s about family, even if they’re going to be gone most of the day. We’ll still see your mom in the morning!” He offers an optimistic smile and Tony can’t keep a frown on his face when Bruce is looking at him like that. 

“God, why is it so bright in here?” Tony asks. Bruce reaches forward and yanks the beanie that Tony is still wearing down over his eyes.

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, “but somehow your radiance still shines through.” He presses a hand to his heart, dramatically reaching out with his other hand to stroke Bruce’s cheek. “Bruce, light of my life—”

And then the hat is being pulled off of his head, a laughing Bruce in Tony’s arms and curls in his face. Being this close to Bruce always makes Tony’s heart swell. He wishes he could repeat what happened the last time they were high, just by tipping Bruce’s head up a little bit. It would be that easy; except it really isn’t. Not until Tony knows that Bruce is comfortable with it. So for now, he’s fine with at least being  _ this _ close to Bruce. It’s something he won’t take for granted.

As the night passes with Bruce, drinking hot cocoa as they sit in his room with only the Christmas lights Tony had strung upon the walls and watch  _ It’s a Wonderful Life, _ Tony thinks that this is the best Christmas he’s ever had.

(Tony  _ thought _ it would be a decent movie. “We should watch, like, a classic Christmas movie,” Bruce had said. “Oh! What about  _ It’s a Wonderful Life? _ I haven’t seen that one since Mom was around.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” Tony had said. “Is it any good?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bruce nodded. “You’ll love it.”

Thirty minutes later and Tony was staring wide-eyed at his TV screen, asking Bruce how he could let him watch something like this.)

“What kind of a monster  _ are _ you?” Tony asks when the movie is over. He runs a hand down his face, opting to try and appear more chill about the experience. “I mean, um. I didn’t really like it, honestly.”

“Seriously?” Bruce chuckles. “It upset you that much?”

“No, it was just bullshit,” Tony shrugs. “Why is a Christmas movie that fucking sad?”

“It ended on a happy note,” Bruce says. 

“Remind me to never watch another movie that you suggest again. We’re watching  _ Elf _ tomorrow to make up for this.”

Bruce laughs, running a hand through his newly-shaved hair. (He’s been letting the top part grow out and Tony’s been shaving the back and the sides for him.) “Yeah, I guess I should have mentioned that it’s a little… tragic. Whoops.”

“Whoops is right, you little shit.” Tony gently shoves him. “‘Watch  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ ,’ you said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ you said. I’m glad I was high for most of the movie. Fucking hell.”

“Are you not high anymore?” Bruce asks. “I still feel pretty fucked up, honestly.”

“Alcohol is what I need,” Tony says with a nod. “I wonder where I put my flask—”

“Tony,” Bruce says with a furrowed brow, “I don’t want you drinking tonight. You don’t  _ need  _ to be fucked up, okay? Besides, I think you might drink too much a little bit anyway.”

Tony makes a face. “What? No I don’t. I drink just the right amount.” Here’s a lie.

“Um,” Bruce scratches the back of his neck, “no you don’t. You basically drink every other day.”

“Your point?” Tony asks. “So I like to have fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.” There’s a lie.

Bruce looks at Tony with a pitiful expression and it makes Tony feel sick. Is this what it feels like for Bruce whenever he mentions something about his dad to Tony and Tony stares at him with that stupid heartbroken expression? He hopes it isn’t. “You and I both know that’s not why you drink.”

“It’s exactly why I drink,” Tony says, shrugging. “This isn’t any of your business. Stay out of it.”

“Seriously, Tony,” Bruce pushes on. “Drinking every other day and sometimes more is no better than— than cutting yourself.”

“Cutting myself some slack,” Tony says, glaring at Bruce. “That’s all it is. A way to calm down after a long day.”

“Was today a long day for you?” Bruce asks, glaring right back at Tony. “Is being around me really that taxing for you, Tony? Hm?”

Tony feels his stomach lurch. “No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I said it’s also just a way to have fun. Not that you’re not fun to be around sober, because you are—” 

“Then why would you feel like you need to drink?” Bruce crosses his arms. When Tony doesn’t respond right away, Bruce sighs and pushes himself to his feet. “Look, if you’re gonna get trashed, do it by yourself. I’ll be sleeping on the couch downstairs.”

Tony instantly flings a hand forward, grabbing Bruce’s wrist before he can walk away. Bruce doesn’t look back at him. 

“Okay, fine,” Tony says desperately. He keeps the look on his face a calm neutral expression so that Bruce won’t freak out. “I give up. You got me. I drink too much, alright? Is that what you want me to say? Because I do. I drink a lot more than I should. But believe it or not, I’m not drinking as much anymore because of you.” Bruce glances back at him. “You make my life a little bit more tolerable. Sure, there’s still a long way to go and I know that I need to stop drinking so much if I want to keep knowing you, but it’s a hell of a lot harder than stopping all that self-harm business. Just— be my temporary booze and cut me a little slack, okay?” 

Bruce turns around, facing Tony fully now. He’s still frowning, but he sits back down and doesn’t try to pull his wrist away from Tony’s grip. “At least you admitted it,” he says softly. “I know it’s hard. I wouldn’t know if it’s harder to stop than hurting yourself on the outside, but I’ll take your word for it. And I’ll be with you every goddamn step of the way.” His repeat of Tony’s words to him when he was sick makes Tony’s mouth twitch into a bitter smile, but it’s still a smile. “I’ll be your booze tonight.” 

Tony chuckles. Alcohol is addicting, that’s true. 

But Bruce is just a little bit more addicting than alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THIS CHAPTER WAS A LOT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS LMFAO
> 
> anyway holy SHIT things are fuck
> 
> but yeah no pls comment and tell me what u thought im thriving thank u


	22. new year's resolutions and kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the new year begins with Tony getting to kiss his two favorite people in the entire world.

Oho, yeah. This is definitely the best Christmas Tony’s ever had.

Between getting high with Bruce, sitting in his room and talking until four in the morning about anything and everything, and waking up to find that his mom had made them breakfast before sitting down in the living room and opening presents, Tony has to say he’s pretty happy. Most of his Christmases involved either being alone, or sleeping the day away so that his mom ended up spending the day alone. He spent last Christmas with Pepper, but that ended in a fight about his going outside to, ahem,  _ discreetly _ smoke a joint, so. Y’know. Not really the best experience. He still thinks that she’d been overreacting a little by telling him that he “didn’t care about anyone’s feelings other than his own.” Of course, they’d made up about a week later, but it still sucked and Tony’s still a little bitter about it. 

(“Hey, Pepper, remember that time you kicked me out of your house on Christmas for  _ no fucking reason _ —” 

“Hey, Tony, remember that time I kicked you out of my house on Christmas for being a total douchebag?”

“I can’t say that I recall that, no.”)

Tony actually sees his father in the kitchen for once, sitting at the table with a plate of eggs in front of him. His dad gives him an awkward, “Merry Christmas. Did your mom get you anything good?” with no eye contact, to which Tony tells him, “Yeah, she got me a new microscope and a book on string theory and holographic duality.” When Howard asks what Tony would want a book on  _ that _ for when he’s sure he won’t even use it, Tony replies with a dead stare. “I don’t know, Dad. Why did you have a kid if you didn’t plan on paying any attention to him?”

Howard Stark doesn’t reply. Tony continues on his quest for chocolate milk, ignoring the silence as best as he can until he decides he can no longer take it and switches on the Christmas music throughout the household. He gets to kill the suffocating silence and piss his father off at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

Bruce spends Christmas Day with Tony in the living room watching  _ Elf _ and  _ The Polar Express  _ after his parents have left to attend their conference to make up for the torture that Bruce subjected him to last night. He laughs and laughs and Tony decides that he would gladly trade his own happiness if it meant he could hear Bruce laugh like that for the rest of his life.

 

New Year’s Eve, Tony is far from alone. He has Bruce and Pepper and even Pepper's  parents came over to spend the occasion with them. Thank goodness their parents were good friends before Tony and Pepper broke up. It makes things a whole lot less tense, especially considering how nice and comfortable his mom is as a person. The Potts couldn’t have stayed away if they tried. Even Howard sits with them in the living room as they wait for the ball to drop. Tony’s surprised that neither of his parents had any conferences or meetings or literally any other prior engagements to be at. He’s even  _ more _ surprised that his mother has allowed him to have a glass of champagne, just as Pepper’s parents have. Bruce assures Tony’s mother that his dad would be fine with it (no he wouldn’t) if she gave him a little, so she gives him just a little less than Tony because she’s still a bit wary. When Tony asks her why she’s letting him drink, she scoffs. “Well, it seems to me that if you’re old enough to go to war, you’re old enough to have one silly little glass of champagne. But that’s it.” Tony laughs at that and Bruce has to fight back a knowing smile of bitter amusement. 

Howard is quiet for the most part, sitting and brooding in his armchair about the fact that he could be in his lab doing better things. Occasionally he adds to the conversation, if only for it to be a sarcastic comment or to correct something one of Pepper’s parents said. Tony just drags his hands down his face from where he sits on the floor with his friends every time his dad talks. Pepper only rolls her eyes at this and tells him, “Where do you think you get it from?” This scares Tony more than he cares to admit. Becoming his father is the last thing he wants in this world. That is, the last thing after Brian Banner controlling Bruce for the rest of his life and Pepper being unhappy.

Tony’s just glad that, for the moment, everyone around him (save for his dad, probably) is content and happy. It’s five minutes until the ball drops and Tony is almost done with his champagne (he tried to pace himself with it so as to not upset his mom  _ or _ Bruce) and Bruce and Pepper are talking about the gifts they got for Christmas, although it’s mostly Pepper doing the talking and Bruce trying to avoid saying what he got for Christmas because really, all he got was what Tony gave him. Bruce has the blanket Maria made him draped over all of their legs. Tony likes it because it smells like Bruce. It takes all of his self-control not to bunch it up and press it to his face. 

“Do you guys have any resolutions?” Pepper asks, three minutes before the ball is about to drop. From her spot in the middle of them, she drapes her arms over their shoulders. 

“Learn how to dance the jive,” Tony says in his usual deadpan sarcastic tone of voice. “And… become as much of an expert as I can be in thermonuclear astrophysics.”

“The second one I believe,” Pepper says. “The first one, however, I’m going to hold you to.”

“I should’ve expected that,” Tony says with a shrug. “What about you, ‘ol Brucey Boy? Got any New Year’s resolutions? Ballet? Obtaining more freckles? Asking that girl out—”

“Actually,” Bruce says, interrupting Tony, “I’m going to study Hindi. So I’ll probably be spending a lot of time on that laptop you let me use while I’m here.” He smiles. Tony inwardly cheers because  _ yes! _ Bruce will be, in his own words more or less, spending a lot of time here! Not that he doesn’t anyway, but this just gives Tony confirmation.

“How many languages do you plan on becoming fluent in?” Pepper asks, an awestruck smile on her face. “I barely know sign language. And that’s all thanks to you!”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce grins. “But, I mean, however many languages I can study before I run out of room up here to learn them.” He taps his head.

“That might take a little longer than you think,” Tony says. He reaches over and ruffles Bruce’s hair. “You got a big brain, my friend. Plenty of room up there for a buncha languages to knock around—”

“Oh, oh, the ball’s getting ready to drop!” Pepper exclaims, pointing towards the television. “Forty seconds, guys!”

Tony beams at his two best friends, wondering for a brief moment how he got so lucky. Two of the most beautiful people in the world, both inside and out, and they’re a part of  _ his _ life. He doesn’t deserve them, really. They’re better people than he is. Bruce is so soft and kind and quite honestly too good for this world. Pepper is strong and determined and probably the only reason Tony hasn’t died in some sort of freak accident. And Tony? Tony’s selfish and sarcastic and drinks his problems away because he doesn’t know how to properly deal with them. He doesn’t understand why two people as amazing as Bruce and Pepper willingly choose to stay in his life. These thoughts make him feel both sick to his stomach and numb at the exact same time, the skin on his hips itching. He feels like there’s a heavy weight on his shoulders. Why are they friends with him? Normally he wonders why people  _ aren’t _ friends with him, but sometimes his mind wanders and he finds himself growing clammy and wishing he could feel something— _ anything _ —other than bone-crushing sadness—

“—Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen—” Tony snaps back to reality with a start, blinking and inhaling shakily. Bruce casts him a worried expression, silently asking Tony if he’s alright. Tony signs back a discreet “ _ Don’t worry about it.” _ Bruce nods, though he still looks a little unsure even as he joins back in on the countdown. 

As Pepper shouts numbers with a bright, beaming smile on her face, Tony leans closer to her and smirks. “I sure hope  _ your _ New Year’s resolution is to jump that Maria chick’s bones.”

Pepper pauses during the countdown to laugh. “Hopping, first. Little baby hops.  _ Then _ jumping.”

Tony laughs as well, his earlier thoughts forgotten save for the ache that remains in his bones. But how can he pay attention to that when he’s listening to his people—his  _ family _ —joyously count down to the New Year?

The ball drops and everyone on the television loses their fucking minds. Pepper grabs Tony and Bruce’s hands and raises them above their heads as they cheer, and before Tony can think twice, he’s taking this moment to lean over and press a kiss to both Pepper’s and Bruce’s cheeks. Pepper laughs giddily at that while Bruce blushes and tries to hide it with a grin. Tony just smirks at the both of them.

“What?” He asks at Bruce’s questioning stare. “Gotta have some kind of New Year’s kiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! bit of a shorter chapter, but i'll update a lot sooner this time. the past couple of weeks have been really weird??? i'm not even going to get into it tbh but i really appreciate all y'all who are sticking w me!! thank u so much pls comment i love ur comments


	23. breakdowns and shattered bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony experiences feelings he hasn't felt in a long time and Bruce can only do so much.

Going back to school after having a two week long break is absolutely  _ brutal _ , Tony thinks. Everything bright and content turns to dull and hectic. All of the video games and naps and talking about utter nonsense within the walls of the Stark Mansion or the mall turns into lines on a frustratingly blank piece of paper and cold desks without any pillows and talks of tests that only Tony and Bruce know with certainty they’ll pass, all taking place within boring white walls that surround a sea of what may as well be walking corpses. It kills Tony to have to drag himself out of his bed (or, if he hasn’t slept, his lab) to drive himself to this fucking hell of a prison. Prison of hell. Same difference. He wishes that he could rewind to the beginning of winter break, but that would mean that Bruce would have to have another cigarette put out on him and his dad would, once again, knock his head against the wall so hard he passes out causing Tony to worriedly run through all of the awful reasons in his head as to why Bruce might not be texting him back, only to find out that Bruce would have to be taken to the hospital and given stitches above his left eyebrow while Maria assures Bruce that they can pay for the hospital bill and Bruce frantically tries to explain that he really hadn’t meant for this to happen, he’d only been walking when he’d tripped and smashed his head on the corner of a table in his home while his dad is out of town.

Yeah. Tony would rather not go through that again.

So instead, he and the other two thirds of the Musketeers power through school with slightly flimsy iron fists and wills that may or may not be unbreakable. They practice speeches even though speech class is over and done with, and they all only have physics class together now but that’s okay. They still hang out every Tuesday and practice sign language and watch movies and go to the mall. They’re all there for each other and aside from Bruce being closeted and Pepper not knowing about his home life, there are no secrets between the three of them.

Or, at least, Tony  _ thought _ there were no secrets.

Bruce seems to be… spending a lot of time with Pepper lately. Which wouldn’t be a problem if they didn’t suddenly and suspiciously stop talking every time Tony walked in on them having a conversation without him. The first time it happened was just weird and awkward, but now it’s starting to really piss Tony off. He doesn’t understand what they could possible be talking about that they so desperately don’t want Tony to hear. Are they shit-talking him? Are they discussing birthday preparations for him? Are they plotting to kill him? Are they— 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Well, shit. So  _ that’s _ the girl Bruce likes.

Tony comes to this conclusion after walking in on them talking in their physics classroom just before the bell is about to ring, their fingers laced together with the other’s and goofy smiles on their faces. The second they notice Tony walking in, however, they quickly pull away and Pepper starts talking to Bruce about the homework. Tony freezes.

It hits him like a fucking train, his heart shattering to pieces because a) the boy he’s head over heels for is head over heels for his ex-fucking-girlfriend, and b) his ex-girlfriend slash best friend is into the boy that Tony basically broke up with her for. Talk about a goddamn twist of fate. Nothing about this is right, nothing about this is okay, and Tony feels like he’s going to throw up but he has to keep his cool. He has to pretend that everything is fine even though it most definitely isn’t. He wants to pull all of his hair out as he makes his way over to his desk next to them, his fingernails digging into his palm. His best friend are sneaking around behind his back. For good reason, too. It makes perfect sense why they wouldn’t want Tony to know. He kind of wants to skin them both alive right now.

“Hey, Slick,” Bruce says with a smile. Tony hesitates in his anger, barely even glancing at Bruce as he offers a curt, “Hey,” in reply. Bruce furrows his brow in confusion and Tony feels bad, but at the same time, Bruce should know why Tony is giving him the cold shoulder. The two friends of his  _ think _ they’re being discreet, but they’re really not. There’s nothing discreet about how they immediately shut up and changed the subject upon seeing Tony. God, he wants to rip the skin off his body he’s so angry.

That anger eventually gives way to a very… interesting feeling. As it gets closer and closer to Valentine’s Day, Tony feels his anger melting into what seems to be some kind of depressive episode, his already-sick heart not being able to handle the idea of the boy he wants all to himself being with someone else. Tony is familiar with being depressed, he is, and he’s even felt whatever this weird feeling is before, but it still baffles him. On top of depression, he’s also feeling twitchy and like his emotions are absolutely out of control. He keeps feeling like he’s going to cry at the silliest of things or even for no reason at all. Even when he’s not thinking about Bruce and Pepper while he’s bent over something in his lab, he’ll still feel his bones ache and his eyes well up with tears that he refuses to shed. He’s either not sleeping at all or he’s sleeping nine or ten hours at a time and he’s having ridiculously vivid dreams that still manage to make no sense despite being so vivid. His stomach feels like it’s constantly in knots and he just doesn’t fucking know what to do anymore. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. Drinking only amplifies the sadness and throws his emotions even more out of whack. But being sober isn’t any better. Bruce still comes over quite a bit to hang out with Tony, continuing to be just as physical and more or less emotionally open with Tony as he’s been from the start. It hurts for Tony now, but he can’t find it within himself to try and distance himself. He’s desperate and he knows it.

Bruce sees him break down once. Tony thinks about it for a long time afterward. He thinks about how he’d been just a little tipsy for the first time in a whole week near the beginning of February, Bruce spending the night and sitting on the couch in Tony’s room playing a video game while Tony read the book his mom had gotten him on string theory for Christmas. He thinks about how he’d gotten that achey feeling in his chest and his eyes started to well up with tears and his hands shook and his throat constricted but couldn’t stop a pained noise from escaping him, causing Bruce to pause the game and look at him in concern. He thinks about how he hadn’t been able to look Bruce in the eye as he stood up and rushed out of the room to the bathroom, his breath hitching as he tried to calm himself down. He thinks about how it wasn’t a panic attack— no, it was some weird conglomeration of emotions all hitting him at once full-force instead of staying a steady flow as he splashed water on his face and Bruce pounded on the door, asking Tony what was wrong and was it something he did and Tony had to take a moment to collect his thoughts because  _ yes _ it’s something Bruce did and  _ yes _ Tony wanted to scream at him for it, but instead he opened the bathroom door and glared at Bruce with tears streaming down his face.

He thinks about how he hugged him so hard that Bruce’s bones must have shattered.

Bruce obviously hadn’t been expecting that, but he only took a second to return the gesture by wrapping his arms tightly around Tony’s back and rubbing circles into it. He had asked Tony again to tell him what was wrong, and when Tony stubbornly insisted it was nothing, Bruce let the subject drop. He led Tony back into his room and back onto the couch, and Tony thinks about how Bruce had put the blanket over his shoulders before joining him underneath it and wrapping his arm around Tony’s shoulders, Tony leaning his head on Bruce’s chest as they chose a movie to watch in silence.

He thinks about how painfully wonderful that had been and he thinks and he thinks and he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT THINGS ARE FUCK
> 
> tony pls why are u the way u are. pls. pls get ur head out of ur ass. 
> 
> and!! the first intense symptoms of (insert yet-to-be-revealed mental illness here) rear their ugly heads! this mental illness is something i headcanon tony to have, especially after rewatching iron man 3 a while back. actually it was after rewatching all the iron man movies but the third one really sealed the deal for me. ANYWAY the next chapter is a longer one!! pls comment omg all the comments left on the last chapter were so cute u guys i smiled so much. y'all are awesome. it makes me happy that there are still people who care about this ship. i've been fuckin shipping these two since 2011 and i ALWAYS come back to it. hooray for hyperfixation!


	24. valentine's day and inappropriate dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony hates Valentine's Day and Bruce has a bit of a... problem.

Valentine’s Day. 

Tony’s gotten his emotions a little bit more under control, he thinks. The conglomeration of feelings had lasted from the time he came to the realization that it’s ninety-five percent likely that his friends are secretly dating behind his back, right up until last night. Now, instead of feeling twitchy and restless but absolutely exhausted at the same time, he’s  _ only _ twitchy and restless. He doesn’t sleep that night and goes to school on the fourteenth with a hyper skip in his step and energy flowing through his body. He spent the entire night telling himself that Bruce and Pepper wouldn’t do this. They wouldn’t sneak around like this. They’re better people than that! Tony has nothing to worry about. They’re not hiding anything from him. Maybe (hopefully) a birthday surprise, but not something as shitty as dating each other in secret.

When Tony bumps into his two best friends before first period, he grins. He bounds up to them, slinging his backpack off his shoulders and immediately going to dig around in it. He’d gotten them both something for Valentine’s Day, and he’s silently hoping that they both got him something, too. It wouldn’t even have to be big; he just wants to know that they’re thinking about him.

“Well, don’t you look happy today,” Pepper observes with a smile, scanning Tony up and down. “Are you vibrating? Is that something we should worry about?”

Tony shakes his head, pulling something out of his backpack. “I’m great,” he says. “But… happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you both like chocolate. What am I talking about? I _know_ you both like chocolate.” He hands them both rather large boxes of assorted fancy chocolates, along with little heart shaped magnets with corny phrases on them. They both smile in amusement.  
“‘I’d let you see my browser history’?” Pepper reads her magnet aloud. “Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, wait!” Tony reaches into his backpack again and pulls out another magnet. “I actually got you two because I couldn’t decide.”

Pepper takes the second magnet. “‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I suck at rhyming, you have a nice ass.’” She raises an eyebrow, another smile playing at her lips. “Really, Tony? You’re going to give your ex-girlfriend something that says  _ that _ ?” 

Bruce snorts. Tony shrugs. “Hey, we’re comfortable with each other. Just because I’m not into you anymore doesn’t mean I can’t admire your ass.”

“Yeah, okay,” Pepper chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Thanks, Tony. Really. Mostly for the chocolates. But, uh, what does yours say, Bruce?”

“‘If I had to choose between DNA and RNA, I’d choose RNA because it has U in it,’” Bruce reads. He grins, letting out an amused groan. “Leave it to you to get me something pertaining to science.”

Tony throws an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “What else would you expect?” 

And then Pepper is shoving boxes of chocolates into both of their faces. Tony beams. They  _ did _ get him something! Well, at least one of them did. So far.

“Hm,” Tony says. “Small, but I’ll take it.” Pepper sticks her tongue out at him even though she knows he’s kidding. “Love you, Peps.”

“Thanks, Pepper,” Bruce says, a soft smile stuck on his face. He tucks the boxes under his arm as he reaches into his bag and hands Pepper a card with a little heart keychain.

_ Only _ Pepper.

Tony’s stomach falls through the floor. That’s all the fucking confirmation he needs.

“Hey, uh, Bruce?” Tony’s voice cracks a little, a forced smile on his face. All good feelings are starting to disappear. “Anything for, y’know, you’re best friend in there?” He looks at him almost desperately.

Bruce’s eyes widen in what Tony thinks is panic, and just as he’s about to open his mouth to give him an explanation, the bell signifying that there’s only two minutes until class starts goes off. Bruce presses his lips together, avoiding Tony’s gaze.

“Well,” Pepper says awkwardly, “we should probably get going! Come on, Bruce.”  
As she pulls Bruce away from a frozen Tony, she waves over her shoulder. “Thanks for the presents!”  
Tony doesn’t stay at school that day.

He goes home and he sleeps the day away, ignoring the texts he gets from Bruce in favor of stewing in his own heartbreak. Pepper doesn’t even bother texting him. There’s no reason she should, anyway. Obviously his friends don’t care enough about him to even stop by that day to make sure he’s okay. At least Bruce has it in him to text Tony. When the weekend hits, Bruce comes over without any warning like he usually does and finds Tony curled up under his blankets in bed, unmoving and offering no reaction to the fact that Bruce is in his room. When he feels the other boy slip under the covers next to him, he clenches his jaw.

“You could have texted me back,” Bruce says. “That’s why you gave me the watch in the first place. So we can text each other when we’re feeling shitty.”

Tony meets Bruce’s eyes. “I just didn’t feel up to it.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment. Then, he sighs. “Depression’s a bitch, huh?”

Tony nods.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day,” Bruce says suddenly, causing Tony to blink. “It… It wasn’t because I like Pepper more than you or anything. I just— I didn’t know what to get you.” He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. “You have everything, Tony. I thought… I thought you’d be disappointed with whatever I got you, y’know? What could I get you that would ever compare to anything you already have?” He chuckles half-heartedly, and Tony wants to punch himself in the fucking face. It’s not that he doesn’t still think his friends are hiding a secret relationship from him, he’s just spent so much time being hyperfocused on that possibility that everything Bruce and Pepper did, no matter how insignificant, had to be related to their dating each other. It never occurred to him that Bruce might still feel intimidated by Tony’s wealth.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a sound that seems to be something like a strangled laugh. “Fuck, Bruce,” he says. “I guess I forget that not everyone has it as easy as me. Financially I mean.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through Bruce’s hair and briefly wonders if his friends  _ are _ dating, if this kind of thing makes Bruce at all uncomfortable but he just won’t tell Tony that for the sake of keeping his secret. If it  _ does _ make him uncomfortable, though, then he’s fucking fantastic at hiding it because he basically melts into Tony’s touch.

There’s a part of him that just wants to ask Bruce if he and Pepper are a thing, but the other part of him wants them to tell him on their own. They owe it to him for doing something so shitty. So he keeps his mouth shut in front of Bruce for now.

“It’s okay,” Bruce says, leaning into Tony’s hand. “I just… wish I could afford to buy you, like,  _ decently _ nice things, at least. You got me that winter coat last month and I’m still trying to figure out how to pay you back.”

“I don’t want you to pay me back!” Tony rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I just… like seeing you happy. Anyway, how come you don’t, y’know, go out and find a job?”

Bruce huffs. “Between my crippling anxiety and my dad being so ashamed that he has a fa—  _ freak _ for a son, I kind of can’t. I mean, I could, but I can’t see it ending very well.”

“Right,” Tony sighs. He caught the slip-up in Bruce’s words, but he won’t say anything.

_ —that he has a fag for a son—  _

God, when is Bruce going to catch a break?

“Well, hey,” Tony smiles, “maybe when you’re older and even more of a genius than you already are, you can come work for Stark Industries! I hear the pay rate is fucking spectacular.”

Bruce chuckles. “Well, I seemed to hit it off with your dad that one time, so I guess anything’s possible.” He pauses. “Hey, how’ve you been doing lately? You seemed to be having some kind of fucked up mixed episode a while back.”

Tony furrows his brow. “Mixed episode?”

“Yeah,” Bruce nods. “Y’know, like a manic episode and a depressive episode at the same time. That’s what happens when you’re bipolar.”

Tony blinks. Huh? “Bipolar? What are you talking about?”

Bruce’s sympathetic smile falls into a confused frown. “You… you’re not diagnosed bipolar? Just… regular depression?”

“Um, yeah,” Tony says with a nod. “The therapist I used to see when that shit show with Obidiah went down just said I had clinical depression.” He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. “Then again, I didn’t really tell him everything.”

Tony’s done his best to block out the memories of what his Godfather did to him when he had just turned seventeen. It was a hellish few months that was all over the news across the country.  _ Lifelong partner of Howard Stark hauled off to jail for attempted assassination of the young heir to Stark Industries. _ The headline had lasted a lot longer than Tony wanted it to, and after he’d gone to therapy and been diagnosed with general depression, he’d done his best to stop thinking about what Obidiah had done. It worked. Tony rarely ever thinks about it and that’s how he likes it. No need to remember something traumatizing like that.

(But then, there’s a reason he still has nightmares and sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night thinking that someone is in his house, coming for him. Hence the term ‘traumatizing.’)

Bruce grimaces. “Oh, yeah,” he says softly. “I remember hearing about that. I’m pretty sure that it gave me a panic attack when I heard, actually. But… I was just glad you were alive.” He spaces out for a moment, probably recalling the exact moment he’d heard about the attempt on Tony’s life. He blinks. “A-Anyway. Um, I’ve just noticed that you— you exhibit a lot of symptoms of  _ bipolar _ depression, not just general depression.”

A big part of Tony isn’t at all surprised by this. “Like what?”

“Impulsiveness,” Bruce starts, “you go from having really high self-esteem to having a really low one, you’ll stay awake for days on end or you’ll sleep for fucking ever all the time, you get ridiculously irritated for no reason, you engage in super risky behavior like drinking all the time.” He pointedly looks at Tony. “And what you experienced for almost three weeks straight was what I’m pretty sure is a mixed episode. You probably felt like you were bursting at the seams, right? You started crying that one time even though you felt fine. You told me while I was over another time that you felt like you were on top of the world and you were so excited to work on Dummy. I came back into the room not even ten minutes later and you were slumped over on him staring off into space. Another ten minutes later and you were happy as all hell again. Also, mixed episodes often cause dissociation, and for a while you just weren’t reacting to things properly.” He stops, looking at Tony with a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Ah, sorry. That was probably a lot to take in.”

Tony stares at Bruce, realizing that everything he’d said was absolutely spot-fucking-on. So  _ that’s _ what that indescribable feeling had been. Everything seems to make a lot more sense, suddenly. Everything Tony feels, the fact that he hates himself but loves himself at the same time, the way he feels on top of the world for a week or so and then feels like he could get hit by a car and he wouldn’t care the next week— it’s all because of  _ that _ . Jesus. Fucking neurodivergencies.

“Huh,” Tony says. “That… clears some stuff up.”

Bruce shrugs. “I mean, only take what I say with a grain of salt, y’know? I’m not a licensed psychologist or anything.”

“Yeah, but you’re studying to become a medical professional,” Tony says, tweaking Bruce’s nose. “That’s good enough for me. It’s practically a real diagnosis!”

Bruce chuckles, unsure. “Probably not. It’s still considered a self-diagnosis.”

“Shut up,” Tony says. “I have been trying to figure out why I’m like this for fucking ever. Just let me have this.”

Bruce cocks his head at Tony. “For a genius, you’re kind of stupid sometimes.”

“Hey, if I didn’t even know what I was feeling, how was I supposed to research it?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, I know,” Bruce sighs. “You’re only doing your best.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tony asks bitterly. He closes his eyes, his hand stilling in Bruce’s hair. For a while, it’s just the two of them lying there, enjoying the presence of one another. Bruce’s reasoning behind why he didn’t give him a Valentine’s Day gift makes him feel a lot more at ease, the aching in his bones lessening quite a bit. He’s grateful for that. The anxiety from thinking about what Obi had done to him in the past isn’t nearly as bad as it would normally be and Tony’s sure that it’s partly due to the fact that Bruce is present.

“Are you spending the night?” Tony asks, voice soft. When he opens his eyes, he sees that Bruce’s eyes are closed as well.

The boy murmurs something that sounds like a yes, and even though it’s only 7:30 in the evening, he’s not about to rob Bruce of some well-deserved rest. While Tony does indeed have his own tragic reasons for not being able to sleep most of the time, he knows that it must be near impossible for Bruce to sleep peacefully in his own home thanks to the constant anxiety spread throughout his body. The kid sleeps so much more soundly here than Tony is sure he does at home and he doesn’t want to ruin that for him.

Not even ten minutes later, Bruce is totally cashed out next to him. Tony loves how Bruce looks when he’s sleeping; with his lips slightly parted and his face completely relaxed. He looks innocent and untainted by the horrors of the world. But Tony makes a point not to watch him sleep for too long since there’s a point where it borders on being just plain creepy.

Alright, but why is Bruce whimpering?

And why is he whimpering  _ Tony’s name? _

At first Tony thinks that Bruce is having some kind of nightmare about Tony, but the flushed, desperate expression on his face as he pants out “ _ please, _ ” and “ _ Fuck, Tony,”  _ is all he needs to realize that it is  _ definitely _ not a nightmare he’s having about Tony.

Well, alright. Huh.

Tony feels his eyes widen and his face turn beet red as Bruce’s hips twitch, another small whimper falling from his throat. He clenches the bed sheets in his fists, mouth falling open and head tilting back. Oh, God, Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful in his life. Even Pepper couldn’t compare to this. All Tony can think about is the fact that Bruce is dreaming about  _ him _ , not Pepper. Holy shit. Does that mean something? He’s had wet dreams about people he wasn’t the least bit interested in before, so maybe it doesn’t mean anything. But at the same time, Tony doesn’t think those wet dreams were quite as intense as this.

And— oh, fuck. Tony is rock hard.

Bruce is literally  _ begging _ Dream Tony to fuck him, touch him,  _ anything _ and Tony can’t help it. He reaches out and, very gently, brushes his fingers over the bulge in Bruce’s pants.

Bruce fucking  _ whines _ Tony’s name. Oh, fuck. Why? Why him? Why does Bruce have to be twitching his hips against  _ Tony’s _ hand?

This is wrong. Tony wants to jerk him off  _ so _ goddamn bad it _ hurts _ — his dick is straining against his sweatpants and there’s actual, physical pain happening here, but Bruce is asleep. It would be wrong. Tony would be taking advantage of him, and as much of a whore as Tony is, he doesn’t participate in non-consensual sex. That’s not his style.

So with a quiet groan of frustration, Tony pulls his hand away and carefully rolls out of bed, trying to ignore the whining and the gasping coming from Bruce’s mouth as he makes his way to the bathroom. Yeah, he may not be allowed to touch Bruce right now, but he’s definitely going to go to town on himself. 

With the sounds of Bruce’s begging and moaning fresh in his mind, he sets to work, reminding himself that it doesn’t mean  _ anything. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHOHOHO I FORGOT ABOUT THE WET DREAM IN THIS CHAPTER YOU'RE WELCOME
> 
> btw if this book were a movie the trailer song for it would be Brand New by ben rector
> 
> anyway thanks for all the comments i've been getting!! they always make me smile omg. but yeah !! tony's bipolar because i love to self-project but i headcanoned him as bipolar even before i knew i was too. bless. and poor bruce he's just horny and in luv with tony,, 
> 
> anyway keep leavin ur comments guy!! it means the world to me <3


	25. second-degree burns and confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony sees Bruce's house for the first time, and everything comes to light.

Even after totally rubbing one out and having a  _ fantastic _ orgasm, Tony still feels guilty. He feels like he still somehow violated Bruce by barely even touching him. The fact that he even  _ thought _ of trying to jerk Bruce off like that makes him feel awful. He obviously knew better than to do that, and hormones can make a person want crazy things, but Jesus fucking Christ he still thinks he fucked up somehow. It’s not like Bruce will even remember it. He wasn’t even awake when Tony touched him. Thank goodness for that. But he knows he shouldn’t have seen that in the first place.

Tony cleans up and returns to his room feeling just as shitty as he did before Bruce came over, flopping down on the couch because he doesn’t think he can handle being next to Bruce right now. Besides, how awkward would Bruce feel if he woke up with jizz-soaked pants right next to Tony? If Tony’s on the couch, he’ll just assume he fell asleep playing video games or something. Fuck, it’s a lot of work to like someone this much.

Tony does eventually fall asleep on the couch with some movie playing softly on Netflix, a blanket tossed over the top of him. He half-wakes up an indiscernible amount of time later to feel Bruce lifting the blanket off of him, lowering himself face-down onto Tony so his head on is on his chest before placing the blanket back over the top of them. Tony’s not even awake enough to hope that Bruce cleaned himself up before crawling onto him. He simply threads his fingers through the thick head of brown curls resting on his chest and allows himself to fall back asleep, Bruce already snoring contentedly on top of him.

He wakes up sometime early afternoon to find Bruce gone. This doesn’t bother him (even though, really, he immediately misses Bruce every time he leaves). He probably just had to get home relatively early or something. Just to make sure, Tony sends Bruce a quick text.

 

_ To: Bruce _

_ What, get sick of me that fast? _

 

Bruce replies within seconds.

 

_From: Bruce_ _  
__Ha, no. I just remembered that i told dad i’d clean the house today. Sorry._

 

_To: Bruce_ _  
__No big deal man. Is your dad home today?_

 

Tony lazily waits for a response, flicking through TV channels before finally deciding to go and tinker with Dummy for a while. Bruce isn’t responding, not even after a good three hours of mindlessly fucking around in the lab. Tony even sends him another text, but he still doesn’t get anything in return. He briefly wonders if this is Bruce’s way of getting him back for doing more or less the same thing to him. Even when Sunday rolls around, Bruce still hasn’t responded to Tony’s many texts. He’s starting to feel a little sick.

After much consideration, Tony sends Pepper a text asking if she’s talked to Bruce since Friday. She says that she hasn’t and Tony asks her to text him on the watch that he’d given her a while back on the off chance that he replies to her. If  _ that _ happens, Tony thinks, he’ll kick Bruce’s ass, but it doesn’t. Bruce never responds to her, either. She tells Tony not to worry, they’ll see him in school tomorrow. Tony really,  _ really _ hopes that she’s right. He’s getting a bad feeling from all of this, though he doesn’t know why. Bruce is fine, Bruce is okay, he’ll be at school on Monday and everything will be alright.

Except it definitely isn’t.

Bruce isn’t at school on Monday. He doesn’t even show up later. Pepper tells Tony that he’s probably just sick, but he can see that she’s worried too, if her fingers tapping rapidly against her desk are any indication of that. Tony can’t concentrate even more so than usual.

For a week, Tony sends Bruce texts that just get more and more desperate sounding every time he sends one. Bruce never responds and Tony is losing even more sleep than usual over this. Is he okay? Is he mad at Tony? He hasn’t even come over this week so he might be angry with Tony but Tony can’t think of why he would be. He hasn’t done anything  _ too _ despicable lately. Sure, he stole a pair of pants from the mall this week, but Bruce hadn’t even been there to see it. So why isn’t he texting him back?

At the end of the week, Tony decides that he’s had enough of this bullshit and gets into his car, heading over to Bruce’s house with fire in his eyes and quite a bit of anxiety quelling in the pit of his stomach that he’s going to pointedly ignore. He hopes with every fiber of his being that Brian Banner isn’t there, that he’s out doing something only Brian Banner would do (what is that something? Tony doesn’t fucking know he doesn’t  _ want _ to know) or that he’s passed out drunk on the sofa. Anything to keep him from interacting with Tony even the slightest bit. If there’s anything he’s learned from Bruce, it’s that Brian Banner is a very unfriendly person, especially when it comes to anything Bruce is associated with. And Bruce is very heavily associated with Tony Stark.

When he pulls up to the driveway of the Banner household, Tony doesn’t waste any time in climbing out of his car and heading up to the front door. He raises a hand to knock, hesitates because holy shit holy  _ shit _ he might come face to face with Brian Fucking Banner and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, then notices that the door is ever so slightly open. He knocks anyway, not wanting to just barge in and find that they didn’t even mean to leave the door open and just because it’s open does  _ not _ mean it’s an open invitation for Tony to walk in. When nobody comes to the door his second time knocking, though, Tony finds himself slowly easing it open and stepping inside. His feet feel like they’ve got bricks attached to them. Jesus, he hasn’t felt this much soul-sucking dread since his mother found him wasted in his lab last year. It’s fucking taxing.

When he steps in, he’s relieved to see that Brian Banner is nowhere to be seen in the small living room, nor can he hear anything coming from the kitchen to the right or the hallway to the left. Can’t be too careful, though, he thinks. He peeks around the corner into the kitchen, not spotting Bruce or his dad anywhere in sight. He doesn’t know whether to be worried about that or relieved. He supposes the worry stems from not seeing Bruce anywhere and the relief stems from not seeing Brian anywhere. Heh. He never thought he would be more afraid of someone than he is his own father. 

What he does see in the kitchen, however, is something that makes his heart drop into his stomach. The watch that he’d given Bruce—Bruce’s  _ only _ form of communication with him—sits on the countertop, smashed to pieces. It doesn’t take Tony all that long to figure out that Bruce’s dad more than likely smashed it after finding out that Bruce actually owned something like that. Brian isn’t too big on Bruce having friends— or even having nice things in general. Tony is surprised that Bruce kept it hidden for so long. That explains why Bruce hasn’t been responding to him, but holy fuck, how angry was his dad for Bruce to miss an entire week of school? 

This is Tony’s fault. This is all Tony’s fault. He’s the one who gave Bruce the watch. He’s the one who made him take it. He did this. Bruce is probably really fucking hurt because of Tony.

Well, that doesn’t mean Tony is going to run out the door crying like a baby. He’s going to find Bruce and apologize and maybe even get him out of here. Who knows? 

Tony leaves everything untouched, quietly making his way to the hallway on the left side of the living room, grateful that the floorboards in this house aren’t squeaky. The walls on either side of him are almost eerily bare. No family photos or shelves or cheesy paintings or anything. Tony feels put off by that, like the house itself is unfriendly, not just the people living inside of it. 

When he sees the keypad lock on the outside of the first open door to his left, Tony decides to risk peeking inside. He has a feeling that he knows whose room this is, and when he opens the door and sees all the notebooks and school textbooks and the one lone twin-sized bed by the almost-too-high-to-climb-out-of window with a backpack sitting on it, he knows for a fact that he’s in Bruce’s room. It’s boring and white, the only semblance of creativity present being that of the scattered notebook pages and drawings found here and there, the occasional article of clothing balled up on the ground. It pains Tony to think about how the lock on the outside of his door probably means that he gets trapped in here by his father quite a bit, and that’s probably what happened this entire week after Brian found out that Bruce has been consistently talking to Tony Freakin’ Stark. He must not have liked that.

The only thing missing from this room is a Bruce, and Tony knows that he should probably turn around and leave this room and keep looking (or better yet, just go home and pray that Bruce is at school  _ next _ week), but he can’t help himself. He picks up a few papers, going through them and reading over equations and diagrams and blueprints and everything else that could possibly make Tony fall a little bit harder for Bruce. He  _ knows _ Bruce is a genius, but it never fails to make Tony a little hot seeing it in writing. He picks up a few more pages, flipping through them and even at one point picking up an entire notebook.

When he opens it, though, there are no equations. No blueprints, no diagrams, nothing academic. Only writing. 

_ Personal _ writing.

Tony doesn’t even mean to read it. He just flips open to a random page and the words jump out at him and he can’t stop staring at them, can’t stop feeling his heart pounding in his chest, can’t stop himself from letting out a surprised noise of happiness. There, in the middle of the notebook in Bruce’s handwriting, is a sentence that will forever be burned into Tony’s brain.

_ I don’t think that my crush on Tony has gone away. _

Tony practically faints, he feels so giddy. He forgets for a brief moment that he’s supposed to be looking for Bruce, not reading his private journal. Of course, he doesn’t read anything after that because he doesn’t want to betray Bruce’s trust any more than he already has. He wonders when Bruce wrote that. If it had been around the time that he first met Tony again, then it’s a possibility that Bruce’s crush on Tony  _ has _ worn off and this entry doesn’t even mean anything. But if—

Tony hears a door open somewhere in the house and he closes the notebook, dropping it back where he found it and feeling his heart climbing into his throat because holy shit someone is in the house and he’s pretty sure he just heard Brian Banner’s voice telling Bruce to get back in his room, he’ll have more yard work for him tomorrow, and then there are footsteps making their way to Bruce’s room and he can hear Brian muttering something about always leaving the front door open and Tony is sure that he’s going to die, there’s nowhere to hide in here, oh God he’s  _ so _ fucked.

Just as he’s turning to maybe try and hide underneath Bruce’s bed, Tony hears the kid’s voice right behind him. Tony turns, a nervous smile on his face as he waves at Bruce. “Heya, Brucey, fancy meeting you here!”

Bruce blinks, eyes going wide as he realizes what’s happening. He doesn’t move from his spot in the doorway. “Tony, what— what the  _ hell _ are you doing here?” He hisses, and Tony quickly strides forward and takes Bruce’s hands in his, ignoring the fact that they’re kind of in deep shit right now.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you weren’t responding and I had to see that you were— oh, fuck.” Tony swallows as Brian Banner comes into view, standing right behind Bruce and glaring sharp as all hell daggers at Tony.

“Who the fuck are you?” Brian asks, voice deep and growly and sending not-so-good chills up Tony’s spine. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Funny you should ask,” Tony chuckles nervously, attempting to pull himself together. “I’m actually here to talk to you about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ—”

Brian fucking  _ roars _ and Tony decides that they’ve run out of time, they need to get out of here and Tony is definitely  _ not _ leaving Bruce behind because he just fucking knows that Brian will beat the shit out of him for this once Tony is gone. Bruce is eighteen. Bruce is eighteen. Brian can’t take him away even if he tries. It’s going to be alright.

Yeah, he tells himself that as he adjusts his grip on Bruce’s wrist and yanks him out past his dad, down the hallway and into the living room. Bruce is babbling but Tony’s not listening to him, dead-set on getting to the door as he hears Brian stomping down the hallway after them. Oh, Jesus fuck, he’s mad. He’s so very, very mad and Tony can feel the adrenaline pumping through his blood as he drags Bruce to the front door, basically stumbling out of the house and down the driveway to Tony’s car. When he opens the passenger side door for Bruce to get in, Bruce stops him.

“Tony!” He snaps, breathing hard. “What the hell are you doing? I can’t just—”

“Except you  _ have  _ to just!” Tony snaps right back, gesturing to the seat. “Get in, get in, get in! I know you’re used to the beatings but fucking hell I definitely am  _ not _ so let’s  _ go! _ ”

Bruce groans, letting Tony push him down into the seat and closing the door, rounding the front of his car as fast as he possibly can. He gets in just in time to see Brian Banner fucking  _ charging _ down his driveway towards them. Tony puts his car in reverse and speeds backwards down the driveway away from him, watching the man wave his arms and scream red-faced into the wind, and before he can actually lay a hand on Tony’s car, Tony is taking off down his street at break-neck speed.

“Tony, Tony, slow down! There are kids in this neighborhood!” Bruce yells. Leave it to Bruce to always be thinking of other people even during situations like this. Tony slows down just a bit so that he’s only going  _ maybe _ forty miles per hour in the sub rather than fifty. Bruce just groans, holding on for dear life and muttering under his breath how Tony’s going to get someone killed driving like this. Tony can’t seem to care when he’s just had to run for his life from Bruce’s dad.

Bruce sits slouched in the passenger seat with his arms crossed over his chest for the rest of the ride home, his jaw set and body language clearly suggesting that he doesn’t want to talk to Tony right now. Tony ignores that in favor of just trying to get home, afraid that every time a car shows up behind him it’s Bruce’s dad. But they get back to Tony’s house without any issues except for the red lights that make Tony twitch with anxiety and Tony gets out of the car, waiting for Bruce to get out before he goes inside. This takes a moment considering the fact that Bruce is still sitting with his arms crossed in the car, glaring at Tony past the windshield. Tony just glares right back, raising his eyebrows and gesturing for him to hurry up and come inside. Bruce takes another couple of moments to continue staring Tony down before rolling his eyes and huffing as he gets out of the car, slamming the door a bit harder than necessary.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad,” Tony says as they head up the stairs to his room. “I mean, when you don’t text me back or show up at school for a week and you live with someone like your dad you kind of gotta expect me, Tony Stark, the most impulsive son of a bitch you know, to come and make sure you’re okay.”

“You didn’t have to drag me out of the house with you!” Bruce protests. “You could have—”

Tony spins around, glaring at Bruce. “And  _ what? _ Left you back there with that miserable fucking excuse for a father? Uh-uh, Bruce. No way. Not happening in a million years.” He turns back around, opening the door to his room and waiting for Bruce to close it. 

For a moment, Bruce just stands against the door, his eyes on the floor before he stomps over to the balcony window, tangling his hands in his hair in frustration. Tony throws his hands up. “What? Did you really expect me to leave you there? Bruce, you shouldn’t even  _ be _ there. You’re eighteen! You can leave! If he tries to come find you, he can’t legally take you away! And don’t tell me you have nowhere to go because you know  _ damn _ well that you’ll always have a place in my house and even in Pepper’s.”

Bruce spins around this time and Tony feels his face soften when he sees the tears streaming down Bruce’s face as he glares at Tony. “My home life isn’t your problem, Tony,” he snaps. “You think it is, but it isn’t. It shouldn’t fucking matter to you how much my dad hits me or if I’m not texting you back. It’s not. Your. Problem.”

Tony blinks. “Not my  _ problem? _ It’s definitely my problem! You’re my  _ best friend, _ Bruce. My mom cares about you like you’re a member of the family. Even my dad tolerates you. And—”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Bruce says through his teeth. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean that you can decide when I’m ready to leave my house. It just means that you should support me with whatever I decide to do.”

Tony gives a disbelieving laugh. “You expect me to  _ support _ your decision to stay with the man who looked just about ready to  _ murder _ you when he saw that I was there? Sorry, Bruce, but that’s fucking stupid.”

Bruce throws his hands up, looking about ready to rip his hair right out of his skull. Tony didn’t want to do this; he didn’t want to make Bruce upset with this. He thought that maybe Bruce would be at least a  _ little _ relieved to be out of there, spend some much needed time with Tony and his mom, and actually go and do things as opposed to sitting locked in his room for days on end! But no, here Bruce is, flipping his shit on Tony for trying to help and he won’t even give him a good answer as to why. 

“Can you just tell me why you’re so pissed at me?” Tony asks, walking over and putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. When Bruce winces in what Tony is pretty sure is pain, he immediately lets go. “If you give me a good reason, I’ll take you home.”

Bruce groans. “I don’t owe you any kind of explanation, Tony.”

“Yes, you kind of do,” Tony says. He opens his mouth to snap at Bruce some more, but not before he notices the red blotch on Bruce’s shirt right over his stomach. He feels like he wants to vomit again when he realizes what that might be just because of how  _ big _ it is. “What is that?”

Bruce blinks, looking down. He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing,” Tony says, and when he reaches forward and Bruce doesn’t do anything to stop him, he gently lifts his shirt up, cringing just as Bruce winces when the shirt peels off of the wound. It makes Tony gag a little bit, seeing what he knows is a second degree burn on Bruce’s stomach almost the size of a dinner plate. The blisters and the red skin and the fact that it looks wet with blood and other bodily fluids is enough to make Tony avert his eyes. “Jesus, Bruce.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bruce mutters. He sets his hand on Tony’s wrist that holds up his shirt, and Tony shakes his head.

“Dude, shut up for two seconds and stop downsizing your issues,” he says. “Look. I’m going to keep yelling at you in a second, but I need to go get some stuff to take care of this.” 

Bruce sighs, keeping his shirt held up when Tony lets go of it. He sits Bruce down on the edge of his bed before heading off to his lab to dig around in the first-aid cabinet. Thank goodness he’s a practice engineer; burn cream is a necessary thing to have around at all times. He grabs some gauze, a rag, some non-adhesive bandages, and the ointment before heading back to his room, finding Bruce still sitting on the edge of his bed with tears rolling down his cheeks silently. Bruce looks up at him when Tony walks in and Tony jerks his chin, telling him to come with him to the bathroom so he can clean the wound.

“You don’t have to do this,” Bruce says at the sink. “I could have done this myself.”

“Well, I’m already doing it, so shut up.” Tony runs the rag under warm water and then rings it out so it’s only damp, turning back to Bruce. “This is going to hurt. On a scale of one to that broken nose you had, it’ll probably be a… well, who’s to say?” He chuckles, watching as Bruce braces himself for Tony to run the rag over him.

He hisses when he does, his stomach muscles clenching up and his face contorting in pain. Tony presses his lips together to fight back any sarcastic quips he wants to make as he pats down the burn with the rag, wiping away as much blood as he possibly can. Bruce whimpers a bit, small moans of pain leaving his throat every now and then when Tony accidentally presses down too hard. His stomach moving as he pants doesn’t help much, but eventually, Tony gets the job done and has most, if not all of the blood cleaned off. Before it can start bleeding some more, Tony quickly washes his hands and opens up the bandages, running them underneath water so that they don’t stick to the burn. He pops open the ointment cap.

“Actually, can I do that part?” Bruce asks, teeth gritting together. Tony nods and hands him the ointment, watching Bruce apply it to the burn out of the corner of his eye. He can hear Bruce occasionally give a sharp inhale, then a shaky exhale. Once the bandages have been soaked and the ointment has been applied, Tony leans forward and asks Bruce to press the bandages to the burn while he wraps the gauze around his midsection, making sure it’s snug but not too tight. 

“See why I didn’t wanna leave you there?” Tony grumbles, smoothing out the gauze. “If he’d held whatever it was he held there any longer, you would’ve been in a lot of trouble, Bruce. You can’t stay there.”

Bruce drags a hand down his face, turning away from Tony and heading to the door. Back in Tony’s room, Bruce presses his forehead against the glass of the balcony door. “How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn’t worry about me?”

“Well, I  _ do _ worry about you, so there.”

“But it’s— it’s not your problem, Tony! Like I fucking said!” Bruce slams a hand against the glass of the door. “You deserve so much fucking better than this, okay? It’s not. It’s not your problem that my dad hurts me.”

“And like  _ I _ said, it is my problem,” Tony persists, walking up next to Bruce and jabbing a finger into his chest. “Need I repeat myself? Everyone in my family fucking loves you. Hell, even my ex-girlfriend loves you! The fact that you’ve been sneaking around with her behind my back is enough proof of that.” He feels hot tears sting at his eyes and tries his best to ignore the look of shock on Bruce’s face. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bruce, if I’d know that the  _ girl _ you had a crush on was Pepper, I would have never tried to help you with any of it!”

And suddenly, Bruce is laughing.

It’s bitter sounding and condescending and Tony kind of wants to sock Bruce in his pretty face but in light of the situation going on right now, that’s probably not the best idea. Bruce throws his head back, his cheeks still wet from tears as he laughs and laughs and laughs and Tony just glares at him, wondering what the hell is so fucking funny.  
“What?” Tony snaps angrily. “What are you laughing at?”

“ _ You,  _ Tony,” Bruce says, calming down enough to look at Tony. More tears fall from his eyes and Bruce looks like he’s trying to keep the bitter smile on his face so he doesn’t completely break down. “You’re so unbelievably goddamn  _ stupid. _ ”

Tony blinks. “Excuse me?” Where does Bruce get off calling him stupid right now? Bruce is the one who keeps insisting on going back to his abusive household, and he just  _ laughed _ at Tony’s statement. In Tony’s eyes, Bruce is being the idiot  _ and _ a grade-A asshole right now.

Bruce’s smile turns into a frown, his brow furrowing and tears silently streaming down his face. “You,” Bruce repeats, voice deadpan and broken. “You’re the girl.”

Oh.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He stares at Bruce with wide eyes, unable to react to that statement. No, that can’t be right. Bruce… Bruce had been talking about him that entire time? Every time he ever brought up the girl, it wasn’t about some mystery chick or even Pepper? It had been about  _ Tony? _ No fucking way. Tony feels like he’s going to pass out, he’s so blown away. 

“Yeah,” Bruce nods, forcing out a choked laugh. “You’re the fucking girl. I thought it was obvious, honestly. I mean, I asked you to kiss me in order to practice. What straight guy does that?” His knees wobble for a moment and he sits himself down on the edge of Tony’s bed again. “I’ve said it a million times and I’ll say it again. You’re really stupid for a genius.”

Tony feels like a fish as he stands there opening and closing his mouth, searching for words that just aren’t there. He finds himself practically floating over to Bruce, sitting down next to him and staring at his feet. Things are quiet for a moment, Tony looking for something to say. Finally, Bruce speaks again.

“I couldn’t be anything other than straight, y’know?” Bruce says softly. “M-My dad would have killed me if he found out I was flirting with another guy so much. He already kind of knew, but… he didn’t know that I liked you so much.” He inhales shakily. “When he found my watch while I was in the shower and saw you texting me, he… he flipped out. Beat the shit out of me and locked me in my room for a week. I was only allowed out for the occasional meal and to help him with yard work.” 

“Fuck,” Tony exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Bruce, I’m so fucking sorry. If I had never given you that fucking watch, he wouldn’t have—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bruce says, reaching up and wrapping his hands around Tony’s wrists, pulling them away from his face. “This isn’t your fault, okay? Something would have happened sooner or later. If we hadn’t been able to text, then I would have been coming over more and even risking coming over when he was home and awake just to talk to you and... he would have suspected something. Okay? It’s not your fault. It’ll never be your fault.” He smiles weakly, keeping Tony’s wrists in his hands. When he realizes that he’s been holding them for longer than he apparently thought, he lets go with a blush. “Shit. Sorry.”

Tony huffs, snatching Bruce’s hands back and lacing his fingers with his. “You apologize for the stupidest shit, Banner, I swear.” He rubs his thumbs over Bruce’s knuckles. “I just… can’t figure out why you have such a hard time with the idea of leaving your house.”

Bruce’s fingers tighten around Tony’s. “It’s just that… Tony, I’ve never known anything else. I’ve been raised to think that I deserve what he does to me, and while a big part of me knows that I don’t, there’s a piece of my subconscious that still thinks I do. It’s not something that just goes away. And I was also raised with the idea that no matter what I try to do, he’ll always drag me back. I’m so used to living like that, Tony, I just have a really hard time believing that I can live any other way.” He sniffles, reaching up momentarily to adjust his glasses before placing his hand back in Tony’s. “I’m sorry I got so mad. It was all just really sudden.”

Tony thinks about Bruce’s words. It makes a lot of sense, he thinks. When you’re raised a certain way, made to believe certain things about yourself, it’s incredibly hard to rid yourself of those poisonous delusions. Tony has often tried to imagine himself with a father who actually gives a shit about him and he fails every time. He just can’t imagine himself having, or even being deserving of, a better dad. 

“Apology accepted,” Tony chuckles. “And I’m sorry for barging into your house and your room. And dragging you back here. But I bet you feel a little better now, right? Got that all out of your system?”

Bruce offers a bashful laugh, looking down. “I guess,” he says, then squeezes Tony’s hands again. “So you’re… you’re not weirded out by me liking you? Because I know that you kind of pretend-flirt with everyone, but. Y’know.”

Fucking hell. Tony can’t take much more of the absolute idiocy between the two of them. Pepper was right. 

With a smile, Tony takes Bruce’s chin between his fingers and presses a small, chaste kiss to his lips, pulling back just slightly with a smirk on his face. “Nope. Not weirded out at all.”

The dorky, lovestruck smile on Bruce’s face makes Tony’s whole body shudder and turn to absolute jelly, his own smirk melting into a stupid smile of his own. When Bruce tries to lean forward again, though, saying that he could use another practice session, Tony wags his finger. “Nuh-uh,” he says. “First you gotta tell me what the  _ hell  _ you and Pepper have been talking about every time I walk into a room that’s so not okay for me to hear.”

Bruce sighs, leaning into Tony’s hand on the side of his face now. “I needed to vent to  _ someone _ about you,” he says. “I kind of told her about liking you, and when she asked why I didn’t just go for it, I… sort of told her everything. About my home life. And how I let you kiss me for ‘practice’ even though I knew you were dating her. Yeah, she was pissed at me for that for a while.” He chuckles, turning his face into Tony’s hand and pressing his lips to the palm of it.

“So Pepper knew about you being closeted  _ and  _ about your dad? For that long?” Tony asks, blinking. He scowls. “I’m gonna have to talk with her about that. I can’t believe she never told me anything.”

“I can’t believe you thought we were going out,” Bruce quips. “She’s still working on getting together with that Maria chick.”

“Okay, I’m  _ definitely  _ going to have to talk to her about that. That is taking  _ way  _ too long.”

Bruce laughs, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Tony’s. “You know he’s gonna come by here, right? And he’s not gonna be happy.”

Tony winks. “Yeah, we’ll take care of that.”

“Okay…” Bruce gives Tony an odd look before closing his eyes and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “So. How about that lesson?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOOH MY GOD I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW CLOSE WE WERE TO THE END WHAT THE FUCK
> 
> ok well now that THAT'S been taken care of, get ready for the Sexy Times next chapter ;;;) and lemme know what u thought of this chapter!!! what u have all been waiting for has finally happened. they r now the official Boyfriends. god bless


	26. flying fists and red panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony wears a provocative piece of clothing and Bruce likes it. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for the sexe times

When Brian Banner shows up at the front door of the Stark Mansion, demanding to see his son and threatening to call the cops on their asses, Maria Stark is the one to politely remind him that he has no jurisdiction over where Bruce chooses to live. He screams in her face, calling her names that Tony wants to fucking kill him for, but he has a shaking Bruce in his arms from where they stand in the kitchen, hidden from view. Bruce has his eyes squeezed shut and a vice grip on Tony’s arm while Tony tries his best to calm him down by running his fingers through his hair and telling him that everything will be alright. His mom will take care of this.

Not alone, apparently.

Howard Stark is there as well, right at Maria’s side, arms crossed and a disapproving look on his face. As soon as he spouts out the derogatory, blatantly sexist names at his wife, Howard is hurling a fist forward and knocking Brian Banner to his ass. Howard stands over him. “You do not speak to my wife that way,” he says calmly. “What your son chooses to do with his life is not up to you. You have no ability to remove him from our property. Not legally, at least. And I can guarantee you that if you so much as  _ touch  _ that boy, I will have the entire police station on your ass in less than a second.” 

Tony can hardly believe his dad just fucking punched Bruce’s dad, but he’ll admit, he just gained a small amount of respect for the man. Brian Banner only spits at Howard, flips off Maria, and tells them that, fine, they can keep his weak faggot of a son, have fun dealing with him yourselves. Tony feels Bruce tense in his arms and then he has a face full of curls and Bruce is sobbing into Tony’s neck. Maria comes in a moment later, asking Bruce if he’s alright, does he need anything, is he going to be okay, but instead of giving her an answer, Bruce just lets go of Tony and hugs Maria, startling her. She softens, however, and runs her fingers through his hair with a small, sad smile on her face. He cries and he cries, and when he looks up, both Tony and Bruce see Howard standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He makes eye contact with them, nervously looks down at the floor, nods and says, “I’m glad you’re both alright,” before walking away. Tony can’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt about something he doesn’t even understand.

Bruce thanks them over and over again through his tears and Tony can tell that Bruce is thinking about how much he doesn’t deserve this. It’s been a good four days since Tony took Bruce from his house and dragged him here, and he can’t believe that Brian didn’t show up before now. Bruce says that he must have been enjoying his time without his horrible, awful son for a while before trying to get him back. Tony feels a twinge of rage inside of him. How fucking  _ dare _ that monster attempt to take Bruce back? How dare he convince Bruce that all he could ever have in life is abuse and hate? Tony wishes that his dad had thrown a couple more punches.

It hurts to watch Bruce get used to being somewhere else. He panics when he forgets to pick up a dish he left in the living room or even in Tony’s room. He still gets horrible anxiety about asking if he can leave the house on his own because he’s still convinced that he’ll get slapped around for asking something simple. The only problem Tony and his mother have with Bruce going for walks on his own is the fact that, if Bruce leaves the neighborhood, he could run into his father and be taken away from them. So he takes walks around their neighborhood, sometimes with Tony and sometimes by himself. He still flinches whenever Maria raises a hand to brush her thumb over Bruce’s cheek because she’s still in shock from learning how Bruce has been so badly abused, and he flinches when Tony goes to ruffle his hair or turns around and throws his hands up in excitement. Tony thinks it’s a bit strange that Bruce didn’t react like this before, but then again, Bruce is  _ living _ here now. He’s not used to living in a home with people who don’t hurt him. Tony has woken up in the middle of the night to hear Bruce crying next to him several times. All Tony can do is roll over and ask Bruce if it’s alright that he puts his arm around him, and sometimes Bruce lets him and sometimes he doesn’t. There are even nights where Bruce sleeps on the couch because he can’t handle, well,  _ anything _ , and though it makes Tony sad, he knows that he needs to let Bruce do his own thing in order to get comfortable.

When nearly two months have passed and Bruce’s burn has completely healed and he flinches less and doesn’t end up in tears every time he thinks he’s made a mistake, Tony decides that he should give Bruce the Christmas gift he never felt ready to give.

“Where are you taking me?” Bruce asks with a bemused smile, Tony’s hands covering his eyes as he leads him up the stairs, past his room, and down the hall. “Tony, seriously, what are we doing?”

“You’ll see!” Tony laughs. He stops them in front of a door halfway down the hall. “Okay, I’m gonna take my hands off of your eyes but I’m going to trust you to keep them closed, Freckles.”

“Fine,” Bruce huffs. Tony removes his hands from Bruce’s eyes, briefly checking to make sure that he really is keeping them closed before opening the door and nudging Bruce inside.

“Okay,” Tony says giddily. “Open your eyes!”

Bruce blinks his eyes open, brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before his eyebrows suddenly shoot up in surprise, his lips parting and eyes widening. He takes a couple hesitant steps forward. “Tony, I… is this what I think it is?”

Tony nods, a wide grin on his face. “Your very own bedroom here in the Stark Mansion,” he says, flamboyantly throwing his arms out and spinning. “It used to be a guest room, but we have like, four more of those.” Tony saunters over to the bed and sits on the end of it, watching Bruce take in the room with an awestruck expression. “You’ve got your king-sized bed, a walk-in closet that I’ve stuffed full of clothes I think you’ll like, your very own bathroom connected to this room,  _ and _ a balcony!”

Bruce is quiet for a minute, slowly walking over to the dresser on one side of the room with  _ his _ notebooks and papers on it before walking over to the bed and running his fingers over the blanket that Maria made him for Christmas and letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Tony,” he says, “how did you… where did all of my stuff come from?”

“I kind of went to your house last night since I know your dad’s gone on Tuesday nights and grabbed all the shit from your room I knew you would want.” Tony shrugs. Bruce stares at him. “What? It’s not that hard to pick a lock. Your dad can’t prove anything.”

Bruce looks like he wants to pass out, staring at Tony with the most wonderstruck expression he’s ever seen on anyone.

And then Bruce is kissing him like his life depends on it.

“The only question I have,” Bruce mumbles into Tony’s mouth before pulling away so that their lips are barely touching, “is  _ why? _ Why did you… give me my own room? And was the carpet purple before?”

“That’s more than one question,” Tony says, attempting to lean forward again only to be stopped by Bruce’s hands on his face. “Fine. No, the carpet didn’t used to be purple. That’s new. And as for why? Well, you deserve your own space, y’know? I know it’s a big house, but… I have  _ my _ own space and we all need our alone time. So it only makes sense to me that… if you’re living here, you should have your own room. I mean, we’re not married yet, so it’s not like we need to sleep in the same bed  _ all _ the time, even though I absolutely fucking love sleeping next to you—” Tony stops when he notices that Bruce is leaning back, staring at him with the stupidest grin on his face Tony has ever seen. “What?” He blinks.

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “You… I…  _ yet. _ ”

It takes Tony a moment to realize what Bruce is talking about, but when he does, he feels his cheeks flood with red. “Oh, my God,” he says, eyes blown wide. He laughs in embarrassment. “Okay, see, the thing is that I used to think we were gonna get married when we were little and I would talk to my mom about it  _ all the time _ to the point where she was straight up giving me tips when I was planning the wedding—” 

Bruce kisses him, effectively shutting him up.

“It’s okay,” Bruce says, pulling back with an amused smile. “I did the same thing, honestly. Except I didn’t have anyone to talk to it about.”

Tony pouts. “Well, I’m glad that you’re not, like. Weirded out by it. That I said that, I mean.”

“Not at all,” Bruce shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’m not about to get married anytime soon, but. I can definitely see it.”

Tony wonders when Bruce ended up straddling his lap with his arms strung around his neck, a stupid cocky grin on his face. In the next few seconds, they’re kissing, Tony’s hands on Bruce’s thighs and Bruce’s hands tangled in Tony’s hair. This is all Tony fucking cares about right now; a happy Bruce and a happy Bruce that wants to  _ kiss _ him. 

Tony’s even content with Bruce not wanting to do anything sexual yet. Yeah, he wants to bone Bruce like there’s no tomorrow, but he’s willing to wait until he’s ready. He understands that the first time they do anything sexual probably isn’t going to be full-on name-forgetting sex because Bruce isn’t ready for Tony to see his scar-covered body yet, but Jesus, blowjobs and handjobs would be more than okay with him for the time being. He just wants to make Bruce feel  _ good _ and maybe hear him beg Tony for more, tell him to go faster, suck harder, oh  _ God _ —

“Hey, Tony?”

Tony practically goes into cardiac arrest when he hears Bruce’s voice behind him, immediately standing up straight and whirling around to face him. He clears his throat. “Oh, hey, Bruce,” he says, leaning against the table casually. “What’s up?”

“Well, I came in here wondering if you could help me with my speech,” Bruce says slowly. There’s something about the look on his face and his slightly flushed cheeks that makes Tony blink in confusion. He takes a few steps forward and Tony finds himself wondering if Bruce is high right now. The way he’s acting…

Bruce sets a hand on Tony’s chest, pushing him back with that same dazed look in his eyes as he sets his speech notebook on the table. Tony swallows as Bruce pins him against the table, leaning in until his lips ghost over Tony’s. “But that can wait.”

Tony shudders. Holy  _ shit _ . Whatever Bruce is up to right now is driving him absolutely nuts, all the heat pooling in his gut and making his jeans feel very uncomfortable. The way Bruce takes a deep, shuddering breath tells Tony that, well,  _ something _ turned Bruce the hell on in the last thirty seconds and damn it, Tony wants to know what. Or maybe Bruce has just finally had enough and—

Tony suddenly feels guilt quell in the pit of his stomach, replacing the heat there. He sets a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, pushing him back just a bit. “Wait,” he says. “Before… before you do anything, Bruce, I gotta tell you something.” Bruce raises an eyebrow, his cheeks still flushed and— for fuck’s sake, he looks impatient. What is his deal? “I, um,” Tony stutters out. This is stupid, he thinks. Just tell him, already! Stop being such a pansy! “Okay, so, a while back, you were in my bed. And you. Um. You started having this dream… about me.” He watches as Bruce’s eyes widen. “And I may or may not have… touched you. For like, five seconds! Then I stopped because, well, I love sex and basically anything related to it but only if it’s consensual so—”

“Oh, my God, Tony,” Bruce says, cutting Tony off mid-ramble. “First of all,  _ I’m _ sorry that you had to experience that. Second of all, you’re fine. I appreciate you telling me  _ and _ you not jerking me off in my sleep.”

Tony chuckles, beyond relieved that Bruce isn’t angry with him. “Yeah, thank Pepper for teaching me how to fess up to my dirty deeds.”

Bruce smiles, placing a hand on Tony’s neck and carding his other hand through Tony’s hair. “With all the respect and love in the world to her, I’d rather not think about her right now.”

“What is—  _ oh fuck _ ,” Tony gasps when he feels Bruce’s tongue glide over the shell of his ear. “Banner, what the hell is this I thought you’d be submissive  _ oh my God what the shit was that. _ ” The sudden rush of heat to Tony’s belly caused by Bruce running his fingers down the middle of Tony’s back, right down over the small of it, is enough to make Tony nearly  _ keen _ with want. What the fuck? Where did Bruce learn how to do that?

“Huh,” Bruce says casually, as if he’d just made the most boring discovery in the history of the world, “that’s interesting.” He bites on the lobe of Tony’s ear, drawing out a moan of both irritation and desperation. His fingers drag back up his spine and Tony exhales shakily, but when Bruce’s fingers return to the small of his back, Tony’s eyes squeeze shut and he involuntarily jerks his hips forward. Okay, so that’s a thing that Tony didn’t know about beforehand. It just feels so  _ nice _ and it sends shivers to all the right places. Has that always been a thing?

“You— oh, my God, Bruce, what the fuck,” Tony breathes out as Bruce presses open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, nipping at the skin there as he goes. Tony hasn’t been this turned on while simultaneously not being the one in control in, well,  _ ever _ . He’s never been submissive. Ever. It’s not how he rolls. He likes to be in control and he likes the other person to be putty in his hands, so having it the other way around is… strange, but nice. Very, very nice. Especially when the one in control is shy, anxious Bruce Banner. Tony had  _ not _ seen this coming.

Bruce bites Tony’s neck and Tony feels his hand clench on Bruce’s shoulder, Bruce humming in response as he continues down, just below Tony’s collarbone. He bites there, drags his fingers over the small of his back at the same time, and Tony fucking  _ melts _ , an obscenely loud moan leaving his throat. He curses as Bruce runs his tongue over his collarbone, ghosts his lips over his shoulder and then presses a small kiss there.

“What are you up to, Banner?” Tony asks through his sexual haze. He feels Bruce smile against his shoulder and then his hand is travelling from the small of Tony’s back down under the waistline of his jeans and Tony wonders what he’s doing before— 

_ Snap! _

Tony’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t peg you as someone who wears these,” Bruce says against Tony’s neck. “Panties? And red ones, too. Great color on you.”

Tony swallows. “How did you—”

“When you were bent over,” Bruce says. “Your shirt rode up. It was a nice view.”

Tony feels another rush of heat. “You— You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Are you kidding?” Bruce scoffs, and suddenly there’s a hand on the button of Tony’s jeans. “Holy shit, Tony. It’s hot as hell.”

Tony whines when he feels Bruce unbutton his pants, still just a bit embarrassed by the fact that Bruce knows he wears those now. He only wears them when he knows that no one is going to be seeing him in them, sometimes even under his boxers. They just… feel nice, is all. And they may or may not make him feel kind of pretty. The fact that Bruce seems to like them is all the validation he needs, truth be told. If Bruce thinks it’s hot, he’ll just wear them for the rest of his life until Bruce loses interest in them, and even then he’ll still keep wearing them because God damn it they’re comfy as hell.

“Bruce— Bruce, wait, I wanted—  _ oh God please touch me.”  _ Tony practically loses his footing when Bruce’s fingers brush over his silk-covered dick, hips twitching just as his dick does. He tilts his head back, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself.

“You wanted what?” Bruce asks, leaning forward and trailing his lips over Tony’s jaw line. 

“Wanted to— to get you off first,” Tony pants, his hands grasping for any part of Bruce he can find because that’s all he wants, he wants Bruce and everything Bruce and there’s so much of him to touch and he can’t touch it all at once. “F-Fuck, Bruce, wanted to hear you moan and whine like you did when you dreamt about me— a-ah!” Tony gasps, his voice rising a few octaves higher than he meant for it to.

Bruce smirks. “You mean like  _ you _ did just now?” 

Tony makes a distressed noise, frustrated by the fact that Bruce somehow got him into this position. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling, being held down and teased and fucked with like this. He  _ loves _ it. 

“How am I supposed to let you get me off first when you’ve got these on?” And then Bruce is kneeling down, tugging Tony’s jeans a bit more out of the way and running the palm of his hand up Tony’s dick. Tony inhales sharply, biting his tongue to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. Bruce runs his hand over his clothed dick a few more times just to drive Tony up the wall before leaning in and pressing his lips to the outline, giving open-mouthed kisses to the silk that make Tony fucking  _ melt. _ He can’t help but curse and whine and beg Bruce to touch him some more even as Bruce drags his tongue up the length of the silk, right to the top where the head of Tony’s dick is peeking out.

“A-Ah!  _ Fuck _ , Bruce, please, oh God  _ please _ I’m so hard I need you I need you to—  _ yes! _ ” Tony throws his head back as Bruce takes the head of his dick in his mouth, tongue flicking over the tip of it. Tony tangles his hands in Bruce’s curls, and Bruce moans around his cock and oh  _ Jesus _ Tony is losing his fucking mind. Bruce pulls down his panties enough so that he can bob his head, taking in  _ all of Tony’s dick _ in one go before pulling back up and off with an obscene slurping noise that only makes Tony’s dick twitch again. 

“One of these days,” Bruce says, taking a hold of Tony’s cock and pressing his lips to the side of it, “I’m going to have to make you cum in your panties.”

“Whatever you want,” Tony says quickly, tugging slightly on Bruce’s hair and— was that a moan? “ _ God _ , Bruce, please, I want you so bad.”

“Is the Great Tony Stark usually this submissive?” Bruce chuckles, returning to playfully flicking his tongue over the tip of Tony’s cock just to drive him crazy. “Or is it just for me?”

“Just for you,” Tony breathes out, and when Bruce envelopes the head of his dick with his lips again, Tony pulls on his hair on accident but holy shit that was definitely a moan and his eyes definitely fluttered shut. Ohoho. So Tony likes the small of his back touched, and Bruce likes his hair pulled apparently. Kinky.

Bruce pulls off of Tony’s dick again, breathing hard and staring up at Tony with half-lidded eyes. “Not… fair,” he pants. 

Tony gives a weak chuckle. “It’s  _ very _ fair,” he says, nudging Bruce’s head back down towards his dick. “You fuck with my kinks, I fuck with yours.” 

And fuck with it he does. As Bruce licks a stripe up the underside of Tony’s cock, before he can swirl his tongue around the head, Tony gives his curls a tug and Bruce fucking  _ keens _ , making the most beautiful sounds Tony’s ever heard in his life. Tony didn’t think he could get any more turned on, but that… that definitely did something. Bruce takes all of Tony’s dick in again, bobbing his head and hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks, moaning when Tony tugs on his hair. The vibrations only offer more stimulation and Tony can feel himself getting closer to the edge, he’s never cum this fast before, holy shit what the hell is Bruce  _ made _ out of?

“Bruce— Bruce, I’m—” Tony chokes out, hands fisting in Bruce’s hair as the boy only increases his speed because he  _ knows _ Tony is about to lose it and Tony’s never felt this good in his entire life and all he can think about is _ BruceBruceBruce  _ all that matters is  _ BruceBruceBruce _ . “D-Don’t wanna— cum in your mouth, Bruce, you gotta—  _ Bruce! _ ” Tony’s whole body locks up as he spills his load into Bruce’s mouth, the most obscene moan yet making its way from his throat, a string of curses that would put the Devil himself to shame spilling from his lips as his hips jerk while he rides out the most intense orgasm he’s ever had.

While Tony is a panting mess struggling to hold himself up, Bruce pulls off of his dick with a resounding  _ pop! _ and licks his lips, seeming perfectly content with the fact that he just deep-throated  _ and _ swallowed Tony’s entire load in one go. When Bruce stands up, Tony reaches forward and breathlessly brings Bruce in for a kiss, tasting himself on Bruce’s lips and only wanting more. 

Despite his fatigue, there’s one thing that Tony wants to do more than take a nap right now.

“Your turn,” he whispers into Bruce’s mouth. Before Bruce can protest, Tony is pushing him over to his bed, palming his dick through his jeans on the way.  _ God _ , the sounds that Bruce makes are so much higher pitched than Tony’s, sounding like desperate whines and keens and eager little noises that Tony can’t get enough of. Tony doesn’t think he has it in him to give Bruce a decent blowjob, but he won’t be able to sleep soundly knowing that Bruce had to get himself off with his  _ own _ hand after all that. So instead of kneeling down in front of him, Tony sits Bruce on the edge of the bed and straddles him, and— holy shit, is he hard again? Damn. Bruce must be a miracle worker if he can make Tony hard again almost immediately after cumming as hard as he did.

It seems like they both can’t get enough of each other as Tony tangles his hands in Bruce’s curls, tugging and occasionally pulling his head back enough to kiss his neck and his jaw and Bruce can’t stop running his hands over Tony’s thighs and his hips and his back and  _ that one fucking spot _ that makes Tony see stars. The only sounds in the room are that of their heavy breathing and moans and gasps of pleasure and Tony can’t take anymore, Bruce sounds so  _ desperate _ and Tony knows just how to fix that.

While they continue to kiss their lips raw, Tony shakily undoes the front of Bruce’s pants, pushing his boxers down in order to free his swollen cock, using the leaking pre-cum to slick up his hand and pump it a few times, making Bruce curse and grip Tony’s hips with white knuckles. Tony rocks his hips forward, rubbing the silk that covers his cock against Bruce’s naked dick and absolutely loving it when Bruce whimpers.

“Tony, please, just— just do  _ something _ ,” Bruce begs him, letting out another sharp moan when Tony gives a not-so-gentle tug on his hair. “Fuck, I— ah! Tony, Tony, please, touch me oh Jesus fuck Tony touch me please—”

Tony bites down on Bruce’s neck, his words being cut off by a yelp of both surprise and pleasure. And because Tony would absolutely love to cum all over again, he gives Bruce what he wants and pulls his dick from its silk confines and wraps both of their cocks in his hand. Bruce gasps and Tony feels a foreign hand attempt to join him, so he smacks it away.

“No touching yourself,” Tony says, voice low and commanding. It’s  _ his _ turn to take control. “You like this, Bruce? You like having me jerk both of us off at once?”

Bruce whimpers again, nodding vigorously as Tony traces his tongue on the shell of his ear. “Yes, Tony, I—fuck!—aha, oh God, please, I love it— faster,  _ faster _  Tony please  _ fuck _ I love you so much, I wanna cum so bad—”

Tony pumps his hand faster at Bruce’s request, groaning when Bruce downright begs him to make him cum. “Cum with me, Brucey, come on,” Tony says, voice husky and wrecked. He swipes his thumb over the tips of their cocks, and just watching Bruce’s eyes roll back into his head makes Tony’s hips involuntarily buck up into his hand. “You’re doing so good, baby, come on now, cum for me—”

Bruce chokes out Tony’s name, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck and holding on for dear life as he lets out a strangled moan, cumming just as Tony does. Tony cums with a shout, his hand still gripping Bruce’s hair, only serving to make Bruce’s orgasm even more intense. He chants out Bruce’s name like it’s a prayer, whispering it into his ear and slowing his motions as they ride out their orgasms together.

When it’s over, Tony’s hand is sticky and they’re both too breathless to even say anything as Tony crawls off of Bruce to grab tissues, not willing to fall asleep in a sticky mess. He gets them cleaned up, kicks off his jeans as well as pulling Bruce’s off of him before climbing into the bed, gesturing for Bruce to join him up near the head instead of staying at the foot. Bruce lays next to Tony, throwing an arm around his waist and a leg over his legs. He presses his lips to Tony’s shoulder and Tony smiles.

“You love me,” Tony says, his smile growing.

Bruce cants his head up to look at him and blinks tiredly.

“You said you love me,” Tony repeats, poking Bruce’s freckled cheek. 

Tony can feel Bruce smile against his shoulder. “Huh. Yeah, I guess I do love you. Maybe a little.”

Tony flicks Bruce on the forehead. “Asshole,” he says, though he means it in a loving way. “No take backsies.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. By the way, I love you too.”

“I know you do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHA tony is a slut. bruce likes it. i hope y'all are ready for the last chapter
> 
> but yes this chapter is the whole reason this fic is rated explicit so congrats if u have made it this far u are a real trooper kudos to u
> 
> pls comment and let me know what u thought!!


	27. gender identities and happy endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony, Bruce, and Pepper are, well... invincible, remember?

Tony never thought he could be this fucking happy in his entire goddamn life. He’s got Pepper (whom he laid into for keeping it a secret that she knew about Bruce’s home life and how he was closeted only to have her tell him “It wasn’t my place to out Bruce to anyone, not even you, Tony,” and, well, Tony can’t really argue with that) and his mom and even his dad has been a bit more present lately. And he has Bruce. He had him for a while, once, when they were children. Bruce was his, and Tony was Bruce’s. Even after Bruce disappeared off of Tony’s computer screen, they never stopped belonging to each other. They found each other again, didn’t they? Even if it took years of pain and suffering, they found each other again and look where they are now.

“What do you think would have happened if Bruce hadn’t moved here?” Pepper asks them on Tony’s birthday, all three of them sat around the kitchen table with birthday cake in front of them. 

Tony cringes. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t be as happy as I am right now.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “You do realize that if Bruce had never moved here, you’d probably still be in a relationship with me, right?”

Tony nods casually. “Yeah. I’m not saying I wouldn’t be happy, but I wouldn’t be  _ as _ happy as I am with Bruce. There’s a very obvious reason why I broke up with you for Bruce, Pepper.”

Pepper shrugs. “Alright, true. I, for one, think that Tony would be dead.”

Tony and Bruce blink at her. “Okay, uh…” Bruce says. “Why?”

“The road trip you guys took,” she says. “Tony may deny it, but I can guarantee that if you hadn’t been there, he would’ve drank himself to death. Probably on accident, but still.”

“Oh, I would not have drank myself to death,” Tony waves a dismissive hand. “And even so, that’s not what happened. Bruce  _ did  _ move here and now we’re fine. Everything’s like it should be.” 

“Yeah, the only problem being that your dad doesn’t know you two are a thing and you have a little something on your neck,” Pepper says, raising an eyebrow once again. “So does Bruce.”

Bruce blushes, pulling his hoodie tighter around his neck. He’d gotten used to wearing T-shirts around the house and Tony even caught him wearing a tank top once. While it did make Tony stop dead in his tracks to see the scars that went from Bruce’s wrists to his shoulders and it did make him want to track down his dad and deal him the same kind of abuse, Tony hadn’t faltered in loving him even for a second. He still finds him beautiful (“Oh God, yes, my beautiful boy, harder,  _ harder—” _ ) and he still wants to be around him just as much as usual. The hoodie that Bruce adorns now, however, is simply to hide the copious amounts of hickeys on Bruce’s collarbone.

Tony rolls his eyes. “So we got a little carried away last night. It was birthday sex! We’re allowed to get carried away during birthday sex.”

“I don’t want to know!” Pepper covers her ears, glaring at Tony while Bruce stifles a giggle.

That’s another thing. It may have taken a while, but holy shit was it so worth the wait. Tony and Bruce had been in Bruce’s room, lazily making out while something on Bruce’s iPod (well, Tony’s old iPod that he had  _ given  _ Bruce) played softly in the background, when Bruce had suddenly pulled away and said that he wanted to give Tony his birthday present right then and there. Tony had, of course, said hell yeah, and Bruce got up, went to the bathroom, came back, and set a condom down in front of Tony. Tony sat up, brow furrowed. “I’m missing something here, aren’t I?” Tony had asked. When Bruce raised his eyebrows, it hit Tony like a fucking train. “ _ Oh.  _ Oh, my God. Are you— are you sure?” While he wanted to make sure Bruce was actually okay with doing this, he’d also been beyond ecstatic.

“Very sure,” Bruce had said with a nod. He’d crawled onto the bed, over to Tony, kissed him underneath the eye and smiled. “Happy birthday, you doofus. I want you to fuck me.”

Tony had blinked, red flooding his cheeks. “You know, there are sexier ways you could’ve said that, but I don’t really care because it’s you.” And he’d flipped them over so that Bruce was beneath him and they’d kissed and they’d touched and, well, the point is that they made sweet, amazing love and Tony is  _ never  _ going to forget it.

“You two disgust me,” Pepper says when she notices Tony dreamily staring at Bruce. Tony blinks, scoffing at her.

“ _ We  _ disgust  _ you? _ ” Tony says. “Honey, I think you’re forgetting that we also have to witness you and Maria boop each other’s noses and practically sit on each other’s laps at lunch and—”

“Okay, okay! Point taken, sheesh,” Pepper mutters. “We’re both equally disgusting. All us gay people.”

“Um, actually, I prefer the term queer,” Tony says snobbily. He rights himself. “Bisexual, actually. Queer works too, though.”

“Oh!” Bruce speaks up. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” He notices Tony and Pepper staring at him in surprise and blushes. “Sorry, it’s just… this thing that I mentioned to Tony a while back. I kind of wanted to elaborate on it since I’m all out about my sexuality now, I want you guys to know about my, uh, gender.”

Tony blinks. So does Pepper. “Your gender?” Pepper asks.

“Bruce, if you’re about to tell me that you’re a transgender female, don’t even worry about it because as a bisexual I will continue to love you—”

“No, no, I’m not trans,” Bruce says. “I’m, uh, non-binary? I don’t know if you know what that means.”

“I don’t,” Pepper says.

“It’s a gender identity in which you don’t actually feel any attachment to gender,” Tony tells her. Bruce smiles at him. “What? I’ve done research. Enough to know that I fall under the same category, actually. Just more on the masculine side.”

Bruce is positively beaming. “That’s great! Um, yeah, I’m more in the middle. Like, androgynous non-binary, I guess?”

“So what about pronouns?” Tony asks. “Are you changing those?”

Bruce shrugs. “No. I mean, I don’t care what pronouns you use for me, honestly. I don’t have any preference.”

“I hope you know that I’m going to have a  _ lot  _ of fun with that,” Tony grins. “Only to people who know, though. I’m not about to out you to anyone by using she or they pronouns if they don’t know.”

“I appreciate that,” Bruce says.

“This is kinda cool,” Pepper says. “I didn’t even really know there were more than two genders. You’ll have to show me stuff about the others some time.” She smiles at Bruce.

“And no pronoun changes for me. As long as you don’t say ‘she’ or ‘her’ when referring to me, you’re good.” Tony leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “Anyway, since I’m officially nineteen and I can’t do anything super exciting during that age, we should all go rollerskating or something.”

Pepper gives an amused smile. “Rollerskating? Really?  _ That’s  _ what you wanna do on your birthday?” 

“Well, I mean, I already had the mind-blowing sex, so it stands to reason that the next best thing is to rollerskate—”

“Oh, my God, Tony,” Pepper groans, pushing herself away from the table. “Just shut up and get your keys.”

Tony grins, turning to Bruce to make sure it’s okay with him. When Bruce nods enthusiastically, Tony hops up and calls to his mom that they’ll be home later, grabbing his keys and shoving his shoes on before bounding outside with his two best friends and getting into his car. They roll the windows down, Bruce riding shotgun and Pepper sitting in the middle of the back seat, leaning forward so she can talk to them. As Tony turns out onto his street, Bruce speaks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone rollerskating before,” he says thoughtfully. “Is it hard?”

“It’s kinda hard to get used to at first,” Pepper says. “But once you fuck around for like, fifteen or twenty minutes you should be fine. I haven’t been roller skating since I was in middle school. This should be fun.”

“It’ll be loads of fun,” Tony says. “And if we all crash and burn, it’ll still be fun.”

“This seems scary,” Bruce says, the expression on his face suggesting he’s not being completely serious. “Are you sure we won’t die? What if we crash and burn and we all die, Tony?”

Tony’s lips quirk up into a smile, glancing over at Bruce and Pepper. His boyfriend, his best friend, his  _ family _ . “We’ll be fine,” he says, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re invincible, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and....that's all he wrote. thanks for tuning in, guys. but before u go, just so ur aware, i'm working on an 80s mute!bruce science boyfriends fic! and i'll definitely be writing some little things for tony and bruce in this au that take place post-we're invincible. stay in tune!! and thank you so so much to everyone who read this and liked it. it honestly meant so much to me. peace out, y'all.
> 
> songs that heavily inspired this fic (and you should definitely go listen to them) include:  
> kids // mikky ekko (end credits song if this was a movie)  
> kids // onerepublic  
> brand new // ben rector (trailer song)  
> hold on forever // rob thomas  
> sporting chance // observer drift  
> i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it // the 1975 (plays during the part where they're getting high and practice kissing)  
> last year's winter // cinders  
> sad valentine // no vacation  
> smile // mikky ekko  
> fake you out // twenty one pilots


End file.
